#his neglectful mother who betrayed him

[1am-s0-veryt1red]

calling hawks by his first name makes me wildly uncomfortable

[wishingformoredogs]

I am Annabeth Chase’s #1 defender. Her lawyer. Every time she does something I’m like that’s so fair. I think even if she were to turn evil I’d be like “no she earned that, as a little treat”

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

✧✦✧ Chapter 4 ✧✦✧

Oh Love, Why can't I See You?

Yandere Platonic Bat Family x Neglected Regressing GN Reader

Warning this part contains: Blood, Biting, Fighting&Yelling, Batman beating the shit out of people and Joker, almost drowning, usage of Lazarus pit and Mental breakdown.

Notes: Bruce's POV HA! I hope I did him justice and not too OOC, I notice a lack of actual Yandere themes on this fic from the family so I started with the patriach first because why not?

MASTERLIST Pages ↻3 , 5...➣

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𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪

𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪

It's weird

I see her face again, but not on her; I see it on her child's face. If I met her when she was young, their chubby and plump cheeks would look like hers, and their small stature would be strong and fierce, just like hers, if I remember correctly.

and yet why-?

Why do I see myself in her eyes? tired and exhausted, burnt out even? feeling like the world has already killed you from the inside and only your body can be seen by people who would never look past your walls?

Why do you look so much like me?

I stare at them as they tense up behind Alfred's legs after they told me their name, they were scared yes but I could see their anger behind those eyes, hatred and hateful like the boiling pits of lava, Scalding to touch by anyone and ready to erupt any day something that I couldn't stop if it were to happen.

As I watch them walk away from me and hide, I turn to Alfred and talk to him about last night. Unconsciously, something in my mind is already forgetting about them.

I haven't even known you that long, yet I'm already guilty of choosing a whole city over you.

𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪

It was a rough and tough night in Gotham, I was new and the evil I've been fighting has been longer than me.

Groaning I limp out of my office and head to my father's medical room when I stumble and crash on the floor, wincing I hold my side from the gunshot in one of the fights tonight, Eyes turning blurry as the air in my lungs get scarce as well as my body who beg for a rest, I can only hear my heartbeat and rushing of my blood on my ears as I lay on the carpet floor bleeding heavily until-

A tiny pair of footsteps reverberate on the floor, thudding slowly until they stop and shuffle in front of me, opening my eyes and look up to see the child looking down at me, they tilt their tiny head before turning on the side as they open their mouth like they're talking to somebody.

"...........do I-?.......... won't matter-...............never remember anyway". Their voice were all over the place as they conversed alone then their eyes turned back to me, they stared deeply through my soul, Judging me and criticizing me with just one look, Something a child shouldn't have, and yet this one was more mature, Like me- funny how they look like an exact replica of when I was just a boy, Who would have thought that there's another kid like me laying around, having the exact pain and trauma I've endured.

I feel my body get dragged on the floor as I hear their grunts and pants from pulling my cape turning, I see their face, even with frustration written on them I can still see a sliver of a child peeking through behind their cold and quiet front betrayed by their tiny pout and small huffs, never notice that before- why did I never try to notice you before?

Blinking back from the darkness, I suddenly found myself staring up at the ceiling with the familiar warm lighting from my father's old fireplace illuminating the design carved on it- Mother loved it and Father wanted her to feel welcome when she stayed on the couches reading books with me as we wait for him to finish his paperwork.

I grunt in pain when I felt something touch my side, Looking down a pair of small hands was wrapping my abdomen with a roll of gauze, They stop and look up at me, A look of indifference on their face before looking back down again and continued on before cutting the wrap and finished.

"....You.....when did you-". I tried to talk but they just looked at me making me quiet.

"..... It's best if you just stayed quiet and rest Mr. Wayne... You won't be of use when you're....." Their eyes traveled on my wounds and shots that were perfectly clean and wrapped before continuing.

".....Dead". They hummed making me tense from their choice of words before walking away as I watched them clean up the medical tray and any bloody equipment and put away saline solutions and gauze back.

My brows frowned when their words came back into my head, I touched my face not feeling the familiar texture of the cowl on my face making my eyes slightly widen and I stared at the back of their head.

-Why do I feel less scared on the thought of you knowing my identity was revealed?.

Why do I feel hurt when you won't call me Fa-.

Hearing a clutter I turn and see them adding more wood to the fireplace and poking the embers with a fire poker before putting it away and turning to me.

Both of us stare at each other, the fire behind them grows larger as their shadow grew and cast over me while their eyes seem to glow and light up with a roaring fire, a child too small and vulnerable to face the world and the evil within this city and yet they looked more than ready to burn this city to the ground and eradicate the devil's weed growing on the cracks of broken concretes of the people, something Batman has yet to do, something I can never do.

"Goodnight, Mr. Wayne". They said before walking out and closing the door behind them with a soft thud.

I look at the wooden fixture and become surprised when I see my good arm thoughtlessly reaching out for them.

𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪

A few more months have passed since they started living here and I find myself paying attention or moving my sights over them more and more, how they walk so silently that you can't even hear it until you finally spot them when they practically stand out in the open, They even blend perfectly anywhere like they don't want people to see or even look at them and how their voice is always on that same lower volume where you can hear them perfectly but thought it was just the wind whispering something.

But I do, I always knew, it was like seeing gold shining around their form, and anything they did it's like everything was duller except them, I even took note of little things like the twitch on their lips when something annoyed them or a raise of their brow when they're interested.

So why do you look so angry when I just want to give you attention?

"No I don't want a debut, Mr. Wayne". They replied with a glare as they sat on the other side of the table barely eating the dinner Alfred made when I asked them to join me.

I was baffled and slightly vexed at their choice and the way they didn't even take the time to think about it, or maybe it's because you still kept looking at me with that-.

"No? What do you mean no? It's only right for you as a Wayne to debut especially for your birth-". I insisted but they cut me off by slamming their hands on the hardwood surface of the table, The dishes jumped, and the pitcher of water almost tipped over from the force while my glass of wine tumbled on the side and spilled the contents.

"I said No! I don't want anything, especially from you-!". They send me a hateful look pointing a finger at me.

"And don't you ever use my birthday on anything!". They shouted before pushing back their chair and walking away, Everything was moving so fast, I could hear my heartbeat pumping harder as my breathing became heavier and faster before I knew it I was already out of my chair as my hand was just reaching for them then gripped their arm tightly.

"Where do you think you're going? This conversation isn't over". I snap as I tug them harder, They look at me in surprise as I saw fear peeking in their irises before hiding it back and hardening their eyes as they pry off my fingers from their arm.

"Yes, it is! Now let go!". They cried as the two of us continued tugging before I let go when I felt sharp pain erupt from my hand I looked and saw a bleeding bite mark on the side of my palm.

Looking up in shock, they stood there holding their arm back as a trickle of my blood dripped down their lips while they bore their teeth at me like what a scared animal would do.

"I'm sorry-". I tried to reach out for them but they only backed away until Alfred came -probably from the ruckus we made- who escorted them away before focusing on my hand.

As Alfred was cleaning my hand I kept looking at the direction they left as I listened to him chastise me on how I approached the situation.

"I only wanted to give them what any child would have wanted Alfred". I reasoned with him but I knew deep inside I already said the wrong answer.

"You are correct to some extent sir and I understand you have good intentions, Master Bruce, They may be a child but a different one, Their only world is gone not too long ago and not only that but their Mother died on their own birthday as well". Alfred confessed the reason behind their actions making my blood turn cold from the truth.

"-You, yourself must understand what it must feel like to have everything gone in just a flash". He said before tying up the gauze and backing away from me.

"Give them time and if you are still persistent about the event then let me have a discussion with them first and let the child have a say or even a few choices on the matter". He added as he started to fix up the mess while he left me thinking.

𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪

After Alfred had a chance to consult with them, from what he relayed is that they agreed as long as they have the choice to leave whenever they wanted and no fancy stuff that exceed on what most normal people's party should be. By taking any wins that I could get, I personally planned everything that where only proper to call a normal party making sure it's not too extravagant, an event of finally viewing them as a Wayne, to show everyone that they are my child.

How did everything go so wrong so fast?

Joker and his newly formed goons who escaped Arkham Asylum after I foiled his plans months before crashed and destroyed the party and took them away.

"So sorry for being fashionably late Mr. Wayne! I was a little heartbroken when you decided to invite all of Gotham except lil' o me SO! I've decided why not both of me and this little ball of joy have the same debut! I'm sure Batsy won't mind right?" They cackle before driving off to who knows where while I stress as the people run like ants in the rain.

I was quick, I knew I was, searching for them like hell and made sure no stone or concrete was unturned in the city even if my hands were covered by the blood of his goons or other criminals that tried to get in my way but-

When I saw them falling down that green boiling pits I knew I should have arrived sooner, I should have never let them go in the first place, I should have hidden you instead.

I yelled out for them like a desperate man till my throat was raw as their hands -just inches- slipped pass mine, their body plummeting down the liquid as they tried their best to reach out the surface and stay afloat, I pounded my wrist on the metal catwalk that I dropped onto before rushing down and rounded the clown till he was down on the floor wheezing and bloodied, his face more purple and black than his pale white ashy skin.

I knelt down in anguish gripping the rocky shore of the green glowing pool when I heard a splash, looking up to see them crying out in pain and screeching like a bat out from hell making my heartbeat stop and started to pump again as adrenaline shot through my muscles as I quickly fished them out, they cried and cried in my arms while screaming out as their body spasm and muscles twitch as green veins cracked their skin.

Shushing their cries as I hold them close and tightly, tears slowly dropped from my eyes, running down the mask till they landed on their face as they whined from fatigue yet their head looked up as our eyes met, I pulled them near my chest as I lay their head on my shoulder as I try to whisper sweet nothings into their ear, hands trembling as I dig on anything my hand could touch, my voice wavering but not my promises to protect them, to give them what they want, to love them and to stay with them forever.

"Everything is alright now, you'll be alright, Father's right here I'm not going anywhere." I whispered as I kissed the top of their head and swaying them back and forth trying to lull them to sleep.

"I see you now, I'm right here and I won't let you out of my arms ever again"

𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪

𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪

Hope this ain't too shitty hahaha inspired when silco tried to save jinx with shimmer kept dreaming about it last night.

[coldilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 8

______________________________

Night

"Thalia's tree has been poisoned, the barrier was weakened, Mr D thinks Chiron did it" you say walking to the dining area with Percy, Annabeth and Tyson

Percy scoffs "Chiron??? Maybe Mr D did it himself or is trying to pin the blame"

"Or... Since there is no culprit, the other gods might pester and harass Mr D for not keeping the camp safe, so he had to prosecute Chiron" Annabeth grumbles

You sigh "likely, Mr D assigned a new Activities Director for us, but he's not pleasant"

Percy raises a brow "Are you sure? Have you met him?"

"I know his name, and I hate people like him the most, Tantalus" Glaring at the ground, you hands fist

"what's so bad about him?" Percy asks, and Annabeth rolls her eyes at Percy's ignorance

"Tantalus killed his own son, he chopped, cooked him and fed his own son to the gods, when the gods found out, they were so disgusted they cursed Tantalus to never eat again even in death, I hate his type the most, parents who don't love their children" you say

"why would the gods assign him to take care of children???" Percy tilts his head confused

You three part ways as you sit at your respected tables

(much like cabins, tables are separated by parent)

______________________________

Night

"What are you doing!?! Don't touch that!" Damian yells at Duke who's holding a small keychain that is strapped at Damian's utility belt

The Manor was cold and quiet, the demon spawn echoes as he screamed, Damian grabbed his belt away from duke

"a cinnamoroll keychain? Didn't see you as the type to like that kind of stuff" Duke laughed

And he was right, cause that key chain was yours, you had it clipped to your backpack for school, after you died, Damian hoarded whatever stuff of yours he could find, there wasn't a lot, you didn't have many toys, you didn't have many clothes, everything was important

Every evidence that you once lived at this Manor

Every evidence you were once his sibling

Every evidence you were once alive

One he treasured the most, he kept in a locked box under his bed... It may sound creepy

Scratch that-

It is creepy.

He found the baby blanket you were wearing when you were dropped on the Manor's doorstep

He treasured it, but sometimes he questioned, the quality of the blanket was immaculate, it was soft and silky, probably expensive, and when Damian found out that the golden stitches that said your name were actual gold, he became suspicious

Your birth mother was probably rich, capable of providing for you

So why would she give you up?

Another thing he noticed was blood, and the blanket was wrinkled when he found it under your pillow

Damian thought of the many times you probably held the blanket as you cried bloody and injured after a mission (or after every time he hurt you, but he doesn't wanna think about that does he?)

Nevertheless, even with all his doubts, one he didn't question was his fondness for the blanket

______________________________

Day

"Mom!?" You jump in surprise

Your 8 foot tall mother looming over you, she had a bunch of bags in her hand "Hey sweetie!"

You are in your cabin, it was your turn to clean it, so while your siblings prepare their chariots for the upcoming race

A dangerous game that could lead to serious injuries, destruction of property and even death, game mandated by yours truly Tantalus!

Even with the dangers of this race, the campers are glad, ever since some guy named "Luke" betrayed the camp, it was advised that no demigod shall go outside of camp without proper jurisdiction

Everyone's been bored, so a game where your life is on the line is entertaining

Your mother looks at the broom you're holding and it vanishes

That's not the only weird thing that happened, the bed covers started to move by themselves and started to dust and put themselves back in place

Aphrodite smiled at you "honey" she said

"yes mom?"

"sing."

What. Now you feel uncomfortable, did she want you to perform or something? Cause if she wanted you can perform a one man show of Hamilton

"just hum darling, a melody whatever comes to your mind" she says

You hesitate for a bit, is this woman trying to do some Disney princess shit on you?

It's not like you can refuse, so you hum

Then the windows opened with birds flying in, they pulled the curtains apart and fixed the carpets, the dirty laundry being dropped in their respective bins (one for each camper)

Oh my gods...

She did Disney princess you

"Now that your chores are out of the way, sit my love"

You sit

She hands you the gifts "I know you'll like them" she grins

You take a peek inside, oh my gods

It's everything you love.

The show you were watching back at the manor? Boom now you have the CDs of them, and a old DVD player

(sorryyy but internet isn't allowed at camp, they're not allowed for demigods at all)

New clothes that match your style, also some camp half-blood shirts in your favorite colors

The continuation of some of your favorite book series ( ;) )

Your favorite comics ( ;) pt2 )

And some comfy pillows and blankets, as well as stuffed toys, cause you were unfortunate enough to not even be able to pack some stuff

You hug your mother tightly and she pats you on the head

You look up and a mischievous thought comes to your mind "what did you give my siblings? I'm gonna prank them" you say

Aphrodite stiffened "Well... Honey, I didn't get them anything"

"what why?"

"I mean... I came here to see you, I've heard you've been training with Athena, I can't have you love her more, you're my favorite after all-" she explains but you cut her off

"don't say that, don't do that"

Her lips pursued "what do you mean sweet?"

"don't call me your favorite, I don't like it when parents have favorites"

You hate favorites, it hurts to be the kid that isn't one, no way you'll let your siblings feel sad

She sighed "Alright, I won't say it anymore, it doesn't change that fact tho, I gave you these gifts because, your situation at your past home wasn't really the best, I figured you deserve more love than your other siblings, I want to understand you more" Aphrodite pats your back and her hand moves in circles, trying to comfort you

That rubbed off in you the wrong way

Very wrong

"so you're not happy that your children aren't suffering? Don't you think you'll make them sad if you ignore them?" You say

"are you only nice to me because I suffered?" You asked

She got defensive "of course not! I love all of you! Just that I happen to love more than the others"

You frown deeply, you hate this right now, this doesn't feel good or prideful at all, why would someone be happy at the fact that the person they care about is loved less? You love your siblings, no way you'll let them feel like they're less important

______________________________

Past

"Just try to understand him (Name), he's lost his parents, I'm the only parental figure in his life" Bruce barely tries to comfort you, a week after adopting Dick, you find the house covered in glass

Every year Alfred makes you and Bruce take family photos, and Dick out of jealousy, broke all those photos with you and your father

Instead of punishing him, Bruce arranged a pictorial with Dick, just the two of them, Bruce never did take another picture with just you

_____________________________

Past

"You want me to sit out?" You ask baffled and sad

Tim Drake, a kid with abusive parents, got adopted by Bruce, he was envious of the fact that you had a "loving parent" who gave you everything you wanted

So the family trip that was supposed to be with you, dick, Jason and Bruce, They made you back out of, to make Tim feel better, so Tim won't feel lesser when he sees you, the biological child

"Just try to understand him okay?" Bruce says as he guides you out of his office

______________________________

Past

"(Name)! What is this behavior! Have you lost your mind!?" Bruce yells at you

After Jason came back, he wasn't the same anymore, he was a lot more violent than he was before

You caught him by surprise, by that I mean he was sneaking around the mansion at night you heard the noise and to not blow his cover he planned to knock you out but forgot you were a trained fighter as well

You hit his head with a vase

And Bruce saw

That was all Bruce seemed to see

He didn't see that you were bleeding as well, he didn't see the dagger that was sticking out of your leg, or the cut that was near your neck

"He had a traumatic experience, can't you just understand him!?" Bruce says

______________________________

Present

You hate that word "Understand" , to you, it means that you have to abandon how you feel so you'd be convenient to your "siblings"

As if reading your mind, your mother sighed

"I will return, don't let any of your siblings go inside the cabin, I'll prepare a surprise for all of you" Aphrodite sees you smile at her words and she disappears

You place your gifts at your bed and you leave the cabin

"(Name)! Ivan calls you, my brother is going to be the lead racer in our cabin, are you going to race?"

"yeah, my siblings have started on it, but I just finished my chores so I can help them now" you smile

____________________________

Batfam: mourning (Name)

Duke an empath: somethings wrong here

__________________

Omgggg this is a long chap

@delias-stuff @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7 @wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @chinxinsomnia @nathaly36 @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @ceramic-raven @sweetconnoisseurgardener @dhanyasri @bella-wolf100 @shortnsweetsposts @roseapov @d3sperate-enuf

[2rats1gogh]

I’ve never really seen anyone talking about this, but I noticed that one of the main reasons why I am team green is because team green feels like an actual team that is in this whole thing together.

Team Green feels connected, united, like a family.

Team Black on the other hand is… meh.

And let me explain why:

Rhaenyra being delusional and thinking that Daemon is actually in love with her when he literally just groomed her since she was a child because he has always been after her title and now wants to be her king consort. They have one of the most toxic, creepy and problematic relationships in the entire fucking show.

Then there is the very awkward and uncomfortable moment of Rhaenyra and Daemon having sex on Laena’s funeral, while Rhaenys, Corlys, Baela, Rhaena and Laenor are mourning the loss of their daughter, mother and sister. How fucking disrespectful is this. And then the fact that they have Laenor “killed” just so they can get married and have their own perfectly blonde targaryen babies.

And Rhaenyra lying about Jace, Luke and Joff to everyone in her very own “team”, trying to gaslight not only Corlys, and Rhaenys but also her own sons into thinking they are trueborn, when even Jace himself. as a child, starts asking questions.

Then there are obviously Rhaenys and Corlys, who for some fucking reason neglected their trueborn granddaughters in favor of some dark haired white bastards their daughter-in-law is trying to pass off as their son’s children. Rhaenys is trying sooo hard to please her misogynistic husband because he so desperately wants his name to go down in history. Then the disrespectful betrothal of Jace and Luke to Baela and Rhaena. Rhaenyra is literally robbing these poor girls of their rightful claim to Driftmark and usurping them. And now, with Luke being dead, Rhaena’s claim dies with him.

Baela and Rhaena losing their mother, and now their father suddenly remarries, and has two blonde boys. Rhaenys losing BOTH her children and then seeing her son-in-law and daughter-in-law getting married soon after that.

Everyone in team black is after their own ambitions. They lie to each other, they don’t trust each other, they suspect each other in different things, they cheat on each other (with each other) and lie about it, they give each other forced ultimatums, and yada yada. All their scenes feel forced, tense, awkward and uncomfortable. They look so miserable with each other.

Team Green in this sense is the exact opposite.

Although their dynamic is far from perfect, obviously, you cannot deny that they care about each other very very deeply.

Alicent loves all of her children, and even while acknowledging their flaws, she still loves them.

Aemond might’ve been a little envious of Aegon, but he would never turn his back on him. He would never betray his brother, be would never try to take his crown from him.

Aegon was far from being a perfect man and king, but, as we know, it was his love for his family, and the fear of them getting hurt that made him a more responsible person and a more protective father, husband and brother. Sure, he is a cheater, but at least he’s honest about it and doesn’t lie to his wife. He is not a hypocrite.

Criston is working for Alicent not for ambition or for self-gain, but because he genuinely loves her, whether it’s romantic or platonic, doesn’t matter.

Helaena would never betray her family, her brothers, her mother. They are all she has. She would never switch sides even if given an opportunity.

And even Otto, arguably one of the main villains of the whole show, still loves his family. Sure, he is ambitious, but he would never become Corlys level of ambitious.

Team Green feels like they are fighting against the enemy all together, they have the same goals, they feel united and you can feel their devotion to each other. Especially after blood and cheese, when they become closer than ever. They’re in this together and only if they stick to each other, they can make it. It feels genuine and honest. They don’t hide anything from each other, they always have their loved ones’ best interests at heart, they would never in a million years betray each other. Yes, they are all doomed from the start, but their dedication and love to each other is truly something else.

[loggiepj]

To Love A Lannister

chapter 16 | chapter 17

"The wedding will start in an hour, Your Grace," Cersei's handmaiden announced when she knocked on her chamber's door. The Queen Mother was at the balcony overlooking the fields of Sunspear and the neighboring ocean, gaze fixed ahead on the ship that will bring them home after the wedding.

"I'll be out in a minute," Cersei replied, making the girl bow and left in a hurry. She drank a mouthful from her cup of wine, staring blankly ahead.

She knew she shouldn't be intoxicated during her daughter's wedding, but it was the only way she knew how to remain approachable around the Martells during the event, especially around you.

Her nails dug into the wooden rail as she tried to control her fury. Why did you have to keep the truth from her? Why did you have to betray her this way?

When another servant entered the room saying, "A raven came from your brother, Your Grace."

She motioned for the servant to come forward and hand her the scroll.

The Lannister woman's lips ticked upward into a smug smile the moment she unrolled and read the contents, knowing she could only trust her family and no one more. She knew Jaime would do everything to ensure the throne's safety. Their son's safety.

"I would like to be escorted now to the garden," Cersei said to the servant, as she placed the empty cup on the nearby table.

~~~

It was total torture to look at the woman you loved and couldn't do anything about it. You hadn't talked to Cersei since that very night, and you terribly missed her. Failed attempts to talk to the Queen Mother had been your task since then, but Cersei had always found ways to escape you.

Haunted by nightmares causing sleepless nights, you were so close to give up on Daenerys and surrender to Cersei alone. But you wanted to give your sister a chance. She was your own blood.

The wedding was held in the Water Gardens, where Trystane and Myrcella first met. And there Cersei sat at the royal seats, looking so elegant and beautiful in her shiny red and gold flowing dress, looking everywhere but you.

It was cruel to see how she completely ignored you as if you were one of the Dornish servants. Even others could tell the unspeakable tension between the two of you, it even caused an issue when you tried to explain the situation to Oberyn.

It's easier this way, Y/n, was what he said to you.

Maybe you and Cersei weren't just for each other. Just like two parallel lines, close but never meant to be together.

~~~

“Let it be known that Prince Trystane of House Martell and Princess Myrcella of House Baratheon, are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”

As you watched the couple go through their lines, the corner of your eyes caught a sliver of unusual movement. One of the Dornish guards was acting out of the ordinary, even its uniform was poorly worn. You decided to ignore it, you had no time to think about decency at a time like this.

“I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days,” Trystane said as Myrcella spoke her line, “I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

There was a burning sensation in your gut telling you something was wrong. So when you looked back at that guard, he was no longer where you had seen him last, and had seem to neglect his position.

Your eyes began to search around. Until one corner, you finally saw him at one of the palace's balconies. Adrenaline filled you the moment you saw him nock an arrow that was pointed down towards Myrcella.

You made a run for it and jumped in front of the girl, pushing her to the ground as your arm took the hit. You let out a pained yelp, but you knew you need to act fast.

The attack brought a commotion amongst the guests, sending them scurrying towards the exits. Fighting then ensued.

With an injured arm, you unsheathed your sword as you yelled at Trystane to protect Myrcella, before heading towards where Cersei was seated.

As expected, the enemies had cornered Cersei, as if it was their plan all along when they managed to execute the poor Lannister guards protecting the woman. You fought your way through as you defended the Queen Mother, metals clashing against metals, blood splattering everywhere.

And when the last one fell down, you grabbed Cersei's arm as you led her to safety.

Another guard, who you knew was one of the Sand Snakes, blocked the exit. You let go of the Lannister woman as you fought against him valiantly, avoiding his attacks with mere luck.

"Cersei! Get back to the palace!" you shouted, pointing towards another hidden exit as you swung at the enemy. "Trystane's guards will protect you."

You couldn't paint Cersei's face. She looked so helpless as she was when you fought against the Mountain. She hesitated to leave your side. But the Queen's safety was the only thing in your mind at that moment.

Another pair of Sand Snakes came running from the exit, making you yell at Cersei again. "Leave now!"

This made the woman move and run towards the door you pointed. Thankfully, the Dornish guards had managed to eliminate the enemies in the garden and came to help you.

But the help you thought would be provided to you after defeating the Sand Snakes was the opposite, as the Dornish guards only pointed their spears at your throat, making you drop your weapon to the ground as surrender, confusion filling your head.

They tied your wrists behind your back then pulled you back inside the palace. Fear continued to grow inside you, knowing the inevitable.

~~~

"I can't believe you'd betray me like this," Doran began. "My very own blood."

Oberyn was kneeling before him, his hands tied up behind his back the same as yours. Ellaria, your guardian father and some of the Martells and Sands accomplices were kneeling next to Oberyn and you.

The outdoor courts were seldom used in trials. Today would be the exception, knowing what the Prince had on his mind.

Your eyes searched for the Lannisters women and found them safely beside the Prince's guards, Myrcella beside Trystane, and Cersei behind Myrcella.

"The Lannisters are the true enemy, brother," Oberyn replied. "You knew that from the start, yet you're the one who betrayed us."

Cersei's cold face as she avoided your eyes made you lose any hope to what was happening at the moment.

"I expected better from all of you, but to harm a young girl in my land, is treason enough," Doran said. "We don't harm young girls in Dorne."

"Girls are always harmed everywhere," Ellaria interjected, her voice cold as she glared at the Lannister. "Tell them, Cersei! Tell them how you have one of our daughters in your cells, captured against her will!"

It made you glance back at the woman. Surely Cersei had her own reasons for doing that. But knowing Cersei, she could just be a hateful woman.

The woman only maintained a cold facade, unaffected by the accusations. Doran went on as if nothing happened.

"You knew what this means, right?" Doran stood, motioning towards his trusted guard who immediately headed to the weaponry to retrieve his sword. "Any act of treason is punishable by death."

Everyone who witnessed expelled murmurs of disbelief and wonder. Shedding blood in Dorne was unknown for ages. But Doran had gone mad.

You swallowed nervously as you stared at the ground. This is it. Your death.

"How could you?!" Oberyn protested as he was the one being pulled forward by one of the Dornish guards, then Ellaria, then you.

You saw a movement from the corner of your eye, Cersei walking towards Doran as she whispered to his ear things you couldn't hear. Doran only waved her away, dismissing her. Cersei's stature changed as she went hectic.

"Any act of treason," Doran reiterated, ignoring the Queen Mother. "Is punishable by death. I have told Y/n about it—"

"She protected me!" Myrcella countered, stepping beside her mother. "She took the shot!"

"A shot she knew was happening!" Doran said.

"She had no idea! She's not involved with our plans!" Your guardian father stood, making everyone silent. "Have mercy on her. If not us, just her. . . Your very own daughter!"

Shocks filled the entire court. Cersei's eyes went back to yours then back at Doran, disbelief displayed on her face.

Doran only froze, his eyes finally meeting yours.

"Have you never wondered? What with the multiple times you spent with Rhaella in the Capital as she was being punished by the Mad King, comforting her, and protecting her?" your guardian father continued.

"Rhae- . . . Rhaella said," Doran stuttered now avoiding your eyes. He almost staggered back without the help of his cane. "Rhaella said she lost her child. Our child."

"And why do you think she did that?" Oberyn butted in. "It's because you had gone mad, brother. She was planning to tell you before before she left for Dragonstone. But she said you had changed. You supported the Baratheon's assassination plans to execute all Targaryens just to secure your land in Dorne. You were involved in the slaughter of Targaryen blood, if I do so recall. She only protected your own daughter from . . . you."

"She . . . is no daughter of mine," Doran hissed. "Our child was unborn."

Your eyes shutted on their own, fighting back tears. You had been rejected before but never like this, causing tremendous hurt not yet encountered. By your real father. By Cersei. By the entire Martells.

Cersei could see you avoiding everyone's gaze and somehow she felt the urge to go to your side and comfort you. She was mad at you for lying to her, but not to cause your own demise. She couldn't live to the thought of losing you like this.

You didn't deserve it. She knew deep down inside you weren't involved in the attack. She wished she could convey this message to you, if you could only lift your head and look back at her. But you didn't meet her gaze anymore.

Oberyn then moved forward. "Then let us leave in peace. If not us, just let Y/n leave. She doesn't deserve your wrath. She's innocent. Just because she's partly Targaryen doesn't mean she's like the Mad King."

"No!" Doran was fuming. "I will not stand to false gossips! You're only prolonging the execution, distracting me." He looked at his trusted guard. "Proceed!"

Cersei immediately stepped forward, holding Doran's arm."Stop this nonsense! King Tommen would not agree to this! They should be given trial in King's Landing!"

"I do what is pleased in my own land, Lady Cersei," Doran insisted, brushing her hand off him.

"If this is still your land after King Tommen finds out what you did," Cersei threatened coldly. "He could have you beheaded for acting on your own without consulting his counsel."

Trystane came forward with Myrcella. "Father, Y/n saved my betrothed. At least, she deserves a fair trial."

The commotion were getting loud as you all that were acquitted guilty were being dragged into the pits waiting for execution. You were pushed to the ground by one of the guards, making you close your eyes as you waited for cold steel against your neck, as you waited for the end.

It didn't come. There was a beastly growl coming from a distance that made everyone freeze and look at the sky.

"Nymeros," you whispered, opening your eyes as you lifted your head to look up.

Nymeros appeared at the courts, flapping its wings against the ground before it landed right in front of you. When it roared in anger, the Dornish guards stood back, the weapons of some even slipping from their hold.

The guests were frozen for another second before they all scattered to run away from the pits.

Doran then ordered, "Attack!"

But the attacks were only extinguished by flames when Nymeros blew towards them, Dornish soldiers running ablaze screaming in pain.

When it moved forward towards Prince Doran, Doran only cowered in fear.

Then Nymeros looked at the Lannisters, at Cersei, snorting breaths of smoke her way. Cersei had never been terrified and amazed at the same time. She couldn't find herself to move. Dragons, the witch had said.

But Nymeros didn't attack her as the dragon continued to smell the Queen Mother, who only stood her ground.

"Nymeros!" you called, making the dragon look back and turn towards you. "Leave them be!"

Cersei then realized it was you, the reason the dragon didn't attack her. It was your dragon.

"Leave us, Y/n," Oberyn said beside you. "Leave for Dragonstone. Queen Daenerys, your sister, will be waiting for you."

"I can't just leave you all here," you answered.

When Doran had ordered another attack, Oberyn then insisted. "You're our only chance! I will convince my brother, don't worry about us!"

"Just go, Y/n!" your guardian father yelled and you could see he was holding back his tears.

You immediately climbed unto Nymeros' back when you saw a long huge spear being readied by the Dornish guards, preparing for the attack.

Your eyes met Cersei's one last time, and you knew then she was sorry as you also were. Sorry that love wasn't enough for the two of you who were not meant to be together. A lion and a dragon were not a good pair.

"Sōvēs!"

Nymeros then jumped and flew to the sky, away from Sunspear castle, away from Dorne. Away from Cersei.

Author's note: I truly appreciate your continued support in reading my stories. You can help me create more stories by supporting my writing thru this link. Thank you so much. ❤

[vampyrial]

A World For Her Alone | Born of Love

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18

cw (chapter specific): threats of violence, assault, parents talking horribly about their children

summary: Mothers of us, be kind to the fathers on whom we rely.

word count: 4.0k

Claude watched your mother fall to the floor but threw himself down with her all the same. He gripped her by her shoulders, as though the truth he had scoured this house for was only awaiting his anger to draw back from the void as her life slipped away. He called into the hall for help but he sounded not frightened or even desperate but commanding, like his superiors. Like the men who trained him when he was just a child, trying to wield more from his pathetic body than he was willing to give. He knelt on the floor with your mother’s body as she gurgled blood and his grasp never faltered. He looked into the dark, waning pits of her eyes and tried to conjure the answers she’d die with.

Like everything, it was no use.

Your father, having stumbled upon a baffling scene that should have tried the endless patience he held for the lord, still questioned Claude with a gentleness that sickened him. “Was there anything unusual before this?” Your mother lay, already dead, in her bed with the two of them standing at the foot of it. And though he hated your mother with a fervor that begged him to crush her bones under his heel, what angered him more was the fact that the reverence had not ended when he had every reason to believe that Claude had a hand in his wife’s death. The falseness of all of it threatened to overwhelm him.

He allowed it.

He grabbed your father by the collar of his shirt, the man’s body even neglected to flinch immediately, he was that far removed from the harm Claude could do. “Unusual is the entirety of this farce.”

“My Lord–” Your father began, fear only just beginning to darken the edges of his eyes.

“You will tell me what you know of a certain princess and knight I read about in a frivolous story sitting on your shelf.” Claude’s grip did not relax, he flexed his fingers, yearning to curl them around your father’s neck.

Your father’s face betrayed an instant recognition but he held himself aloft from it. “Lord Claude, we all act impulsively when life challenges us this way but let you not sully your own reputation with violence against your family.”

A frenzied and crazed laugh slipped from Claude’s lips and he bared his teeth in some odd approximation of a grin. He could not believe the audacity of it. He was so tired of normal. So sick of it that he could let himself die right then. Still, he pressed on, willing the information from your father’s body as he had done to prisoners before. “Diana’s mother. Who is she?” Your father’s eyes went flat as though he’d recoiled in on himself for protection, already having decided defending himself was not an option. “That…why do you wish to know?” He had stopped pretending there was nothing to know.

“Does she hold it over you, father-in-law?” Claude sneered. “Does Diana use her magic to keep you in her thrall?”

A spark of something ignited and your father was dragged back from the depths of memory. “Diana uses nothing, know of nothing, my lord. Is that truly not apparent to you?” He wrenched himself from Claude’s grip suddenly, holding out his arms in a gesture that signified that he’d tread carefully. Claude allowed him to step back, believing his explanation to follow. “Can you not see her perfect innocence in this? She is above the madness she was born amidst.”

Claude had given him every chance to speak sense, the tips of his fingers were growing cold and numb. The acrid stench of her blood on his clothes and his hands grew difficult to even breathe through, it was everywhere, traces of blood were everywhere in this house. And still he might add more. He unsheathed his sword partially from his belt to which your father did not flinch. “My Lord, I need only know what becomes of Diana, what of her and your child if you act this way.”

What becomes of them? Claude laughed again, the world ebbing with flashes of blurred daylight as he felt himself descend with each gasped breath. He was greeting the pits of madness, he could feel it. Reality was disintegrating again. “I’ll leave here and kill them both now if I don’t have my answers.”

Your father’s expression turned to shock, as though he believed…as though he truly believed in what was sold to him by a self which had retreated. Claude— not the one with a grotesque and near calculable perfection in his single-mindedness, but the one who had been buried underneath, was the only thing left behind to speak but your father did not know him. He could not comprehend that there had ever been a part of him that could not only feel apathy toward Diana but one which could actively hated her. Claude thought placidly that he was soon to sink, collapsed under the weight of this dichotomy and the madness it inspired. “Diana’s mother, the princess.” Your father stared with a sort of wonder into Claude’s eyes, trying to weigh how to proceed in a conversation with a once tamed and now feral animal. “She is gone now, you must have heard it even if before you did not know her significance.”

Somewhere in his memory, he felt around for a name he’d heard but it was difficult, for all of time and thought revolved around this agony. And reality had scarcely moved with the stability it had before, it bisected so that he was of two minds and of two lives at once. Still, he managed to draw a whisper from the depths of his lives. A princess of Siodonna who had been her elder sister’s heir, had succumbed to an unknown illness. The kingdom’s future was uncertain and as his father-in-law and his country at large had ties to them, it had been their concern too. That princess, the immaterial one who had no face and name in face of the consuming thing thoroughly within and without his mind. Nothing had any definition that was not given by Diana’s gaze and Diana treated your mother as her own, the only mother she would ever know. He’d had no reason to care. “She was a mage? She crafted this…” He realized he didn’t know how to describe what it was he was afflicted by. Especially to someone like your father, who seemed like he’d have willingly given in to a life of toil for Diana’s love were he in Claude’s place. “This life.”

“I know little of her work, or I– I knew little. She cast some spell on our princess, perhaps it is so that she gave her this life with you.” Your father compulsively smoothed his clothes out, rearranging himself where Claude had disheveled his neat appearance. “If it is true then…forgive me, Lord Claude but I do not see it as a bad thing. I can’t understand why you would. Is it not a good thing?” He smoothed the lapels of his shirt with a quivering smile. “Something was given to you, Lord Claude, by ordinance of magic that is so very rare in this world. Should you not treasure it?”

Claude could have lunged for him again. Instead, though, he drew his sword in warning. Your father, undeterred, only smiled. “My Lord…No matter what, Diana is a gift to you, whether the princess’ or god’s. Why do you only pretend to scorn her now? Is it out of guilt for her elder sister? She made her own bed, she made it easy for fate to find its way between you. In your love with Diana, she was just happenstance, don’t you think? Wasn’t it always going to be that you two would find a way?”

Another frisson of light and reality rearranged again. Claude was kneeling on your father’s chest with one hand around the man’s throat and the other holding his sword above the man’s head as though he were keen to put it right through his eye.

“My Lord, what is going on?” Felix appeared in the doorway, a hand on his sword which stayed sheathed despite Claude obviously meaning to hurt your father. His voice didn’t sound panicked as it should, he sounded truly conflicted. His eyes flitted from him to your father again and again, his gaze tense but tinged in something akin to…amusement. Yes, it would make sense that he’d be amused by. If Felix hated Claude then he must surely had a father who’d been treating you poorly far before. Perhaps he was debating letting both of them kill each other.

“You may go,” your father replied, placidly. He was panting and clearly a bit afraid but he spoke calmly. “Do not intrude on us, Lord Claude and I were caught in a misunderstanding.”

Felix raised an eyebrow but did not disobey, turning on his heels and closing the door behind him with a click, his pride as a knight long forgotten. Claude would have killed him without a second thought had anything interrupted them, he was tied to a singular desire that was the only thing holding him to earth. Whether it be your father, your knight or his very own child, he’d not let anything stop him. If he did, this life would yet again be nothing but wasted time and wasted agony. He looked down at your father. “I don’t care at all if your mother was a brazen courtesan who let your father knock you about like a disobedient dog if it meant that she could let other men fuck her for position. I don’t care if you feel nothing when you see your wife cold and dead. The cruelty you visit upon your first daughter, that will be repaid. I will see it repaid.” The voice that came out of him was guttural like the call of animal. “But not before I know who put this story to paper. You say you know little of her work but it seems that someone must. Who are they?”

“Lord Claude, pardon me, but if you could find someone to give you what answers you wish to hear…what would it change?” He huffed, struggling to breath under Claude’s weight. “She was never my daughter, that girl. I never felt like her father, she…she was more omen than a child. She was born from me and the misery ever above me. I don’t know who she most took after. If you believe there was a spell that compelled you toward my little princess, then it must have been intended as a blessing for you as much as her. There’s no reason for lies, My Lord, there’s no one here to pity anymore. You could never have loved that girl, it might have been enough for her just to do her duties to you but she was so vicious, so hateful. She has never been innocent a day in her life, always had to be reminded of herself. It would have compounded your misery, that I know, Lord Claude. Believe that I know my own blood even if she has never been held in my arms as a daughter.”

A punch landed on your father’s nose, Claude could feel a part of the bone split. He wished for his gauntlet, wished for the pleasure and ease of watching your father’s face turn into a grotesque portrait of his own viciousness in moments. “I’m not you.” The words came out in a rhythm, like the warning song of a bird of prey.

Your father, with blood all over his face and still gushing from his nose, smiled and revealed the blood on his teeth as well. He was fully crying then, gasping little breaths and squeezing his eyes shut. “No…you’re not me. You have had a fate…that I…might have died for.”

“I will have my way. I must have my way. If not, I will take from you the last shred of that princess you so loved. I will kill them both.” Your father’s eyes popped open, red with blood and terrified. This time, he had no reason to believed that Claude could be swayed from the boundary of anger and a will to see bloodshed done. He took a long and trembling breath in through his mouth, madness defeated under the weigh of Claude’s own. “I saw the book long ago, I’d heard…whispers about it. I bought it from…a common woman’s bookstore, the author called himself…Lucas, I wanted to know…who could know our story so intimately and who could dare publish it but I…I went to where the woman said he’d last lived and he was not there, in fact…it looked like no one had lived there in some time.”

“Where?”

“Right here in this county, I could not believe…across the road from where that shabby little theater is.”

A noise sounded at the door a woman’s voice muffled, sounding pleading against the voice of Felix, giving her what sounded like short and rather curt answers. Your father’s head whipped toward the noise and for the first time, he struggled underneath Claude. “My Lord, I ask that you not let my daughter see this. Whatever you feel for her, she has done nothing wrong.” Claude hesitantly climbed off of him, having gained the answers he’d sought. It had little to do with sparing Diana and more to do with the fact that he could move forward, finally. Claude swung open the door and barged past both Felix and his frantic wife with their daughter in tow, sucking at her thumb. He might not have even noticed there was still blood on his hands if he did not see it in he way their expressions mirrored each other as he walked past. Though their daughter took after Diana most in the first place, fear made them doppelgangers, the sight of him rid his wife’s face of the mature and practiced expression she wore. She looked as young as when they first met.

He pushed past.

“Claude! Oh my god, are you hurt?” She followed after him, letting go of her daughter’s hand trying to stop him from proceeding. “What happened?” She stood in front of him. “Where are you going.

“I’m leaving.” He started to walk around her but Diana put her arms out, moving with him.

“Don’t,” He warned. It was a bit laughable that she was using her body as a shield to keep him from walking away because she presumed he’d not harm her to pass. All the while, the harm he did to her would be negligible in his mind, one drop of her fair, precious blood in a sea of viscera.

“Don’t what? Don’t stop you from leaving when you’re covered in blood?” She cried. “What is wrong with you? Talk to me, please. They’re saying my mother is dead and you…you were there with her. No one will tell me what’s going on.”

“Yes, I was there.” He affirmed easily. A little smile rose at the corners of his lips. “Forgive me, I should be the one to tell you what has been going on.”

She was not soothed but she relaxed somewhat, her gaze growing expectant. She reached out for his arm, perhaps trying to console whatever it was she saw in his expression and the blood drying on his clothes. He took her by the shoulders instead, unable to keep his grip gentle when he had the object of so many miseries between his fingers. His daughter called for him but her voice had simply become part of the chorus of little voices lost to deaths behind him. He did not know her voice from the ones he dreamed of, the voice of the colicky little infant he’d left behind. “Everything in this house has always been for your sake, Diana. Everyone has lived just to give you more but no one paid the price like your sister did. Did you not see that? Or perhaps did you think it was her duty, to be expected that she should survive off of scraps just so that you could have more.”

Diana’s brow furrowed, she did not look nearly as afraid of him as she should have been. She did not approach him with nearly as much caution. “What?”

“Your mother devoted her life to caring for you. Promised to you. Your father holds you like a relic of the past, a keepsake of your mother. But while we’re at it, let’s speak of your mother. They never spoke to you about her, did they? I’ll be the one who does, after all, I am your savior. It is the least I can do.” He stared down at her. “Your mother was poisoning you to keep you inside the house, safe and sound. Did you know? No, of course not, this woman was a slave to your care. What could you think to do other than swallow up her lies?”

“Poisoning me? Claude, you’re not making sense, you’re hurting me.”

“Everything does,” He said simply. “Everything hurts you. Save for the pleasure of your actions. The fallout hurts you, the secret hurts you but never the act. Only how it looks. Did you ever consider your own sister when you spent your days throwing yourself at me?” It wasn’t fair to speak to her of these things as though he had no part in it but what had ever been fair about any of his lives? She could shoulder her share of it. He’d make her. “If it were her, you’d have never forgotten but that’s the point, isn’t it? It’s you so it’s acceptable, you, the poor, sick little darling. Maybe you felt like you deserved it even if you felt a bit sorry, you always came back to that fact. Your mother gave you the chance to excuse yourself this way, maybe you’d have been glad all along to know what she was doing. Maybe it would give you reason to be saved, reason greater than your sister’s.”

Your father came out of the room, blotting his nose with a soaked handkerchief. Diana looked over Claude’s shoulder in horror, letting out a gasp. “Lord Claude. Please. Leave her be.” He was swaying on his feet a bit but Felix did not offer his arm.

Claude paid him no mind. “Your mother was a mage, beloved by your miserable father. I read it in your mother’s diary, it’s still in her room if you wish to read every word your mother inspired. She put a spell on you but your magic was also great, did you know that? Or did you cast this spell on me by sheer will?” He paused, waiting to hear her answer, as though she would give one. He had not realized until then that he wanted her to. He wanted her to have known.

“Let go of me! Don’t do this in front of your daughter, you’re frightening her!”

His fingers flexed, grasping her tighter. “Tell me. Is this love the doing of all that wasted magic buried in a weak body?”

“I truly don’t know what you’re talking about, Claude, please. I love you.” She pleaded, teary eyed. Her tears…for some reason inspired a burning hatred, one that was painful to hold. Tears. She hadn’t earned the right to tears, not for you and certainly not for herself. Their daughter had begun to cry, mirroring her mother. Diana gently called to the girl, trying to calm her while terrified herself. The crying of their child brought him back, reality merged again and he was hearing the cries from a cradle rocked by the wind, this time the hollow between her screams filled by the comfort of a mother she did not have. It enraged him.

“I don’t love you, Diana. More than that, I hate you. More than I ever thought one could hate. This feeling, the misery of laying with you knowing that you reek of the deaths that follow after you…I’d rather kill myself than bear it even once more. You sicken me and I sicken myself for having ever…fallen into you like this.” It came out in a desperate tone, a breathless ramble. “The child with my blood might as well have been born only of you for how little I feel for it. Her birth brought me no joy, because every time I look at her, I think of the child that your sister might have had with me. I love your sister. I love her down to her bones, down to the hollow space in my life that she’s left. You have…again you have stolen it…”

Belatedly, caution entered her gaze. “Claude…” her voice broke. “You don’t mean any of this. You’re ill. You’ve made yourself ill. You need rest.”

He laughed humorlessly. “I’ve never meant anything I’ve said to you until now. You think this is madness and maybe it is! But that doesn’t mean it isn’t me.” He let go of her. “All of it is falsehood and you know it. It was falsehood that benefitted you so you could live with it well enough but no more. I cannot live this way.” He forced himself to leave the anger there, it was of no consequence now, his anger did nothing to save you and was becoming rather indulgent. Only his next pursuit could provide any hope of helping you. And he’d not be tempted from that path for a belated revenge.

Diana went to their daughter and held her, tucking the girl’s teary face into her shoulder as Claude pressed forward, walking down the hall. Your father came over to comfort the two, setting a hand on her shoulder and murmuring assurances which she ignored. “Where do you intend to run?" Diana, who simply could not leave things be called out to him. “Your home is here, your family is here. Whatever you feel now for me…I truly don’t understand what you feel you’ve discovered here but I know that you have always had your regrets and I’m sorry for that. I always sought to be happy with you. But even if I have failed, it isn’t for you to abandon us now of all times. I didn’t kill my sister, I didn’t make her run away. I’m now without my mother and without my sister and you would have me lose you?” She rose to her feet, cautiously, the only sound in the hall being their daughter’s sniffling and the swish of her silk skirts. “Stay. Let a doctor see you.”

Claude looked back at her for a moment. Diana’s gaze held his with fragile hope. She was beautiful in the dull, grey light from the window. Her tears glittered on her cheeks, her white dress was smeared with her father’s blood. It reminded him of you. How many lives you’d spent kneeling at the altar of his sins, waiting for him and still waiting at the end. The innocence of your disbelief worn on your sleeve.

But on Diana, such a look was a profoundly cruel farce. A reminder of just how unearned the tragedy in her eyes was. He felt glad to leave her. He hoped that just once, she’d be made to wait for a husband who would not come, to cling to a promise she knew was already broken, even if in the end he knew it would not matter. Memory is what makes tragedy. For all that happened, the agony is in remembering.

“You’ve never been a wife to me, this has never been a family,” He said it softly, not for her benefit, but because he felt reality begin to waver and his mind become such a fragile and uncertain place. “You have always felt like a trial from god and that child…a shadow of something long gone born only to compound my misery. All of this to punish me.”

Reality melted again, reformed around a memory of you begging him not to leave without you. He knew it wasn't real and still it had been hard to make his way out into the dark without turning back.

tags: @kage-tobiuo @kreishin @rosephantomhive @yeahdrarry @splaterparty0-0 @dear-dairiess @qluvrv @hafsuhhh @eissaaaa @ayolk @doan-19 @fourcefulcupid @ariachaos @cerisearan @irisspade @yaesflorist @jcrml @xiaosprettygf @yevenly @amaris08atoshi012022 @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @softbummiee @cassanderasblog @waka-babe @bananatwirl@s1mp69 @mitsuyamistress @hottiewifeyyyy @reiko69 @syyyy4ever @pinkpastel-l @dododododooosworld @gwyneveire @mvoonxlightv @noisyenthusiastface @coldpeachkitten @brightykitten @worstliving @kailyan

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | ix.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

��𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

You fiddle with the hem of your sleeve in the back of the car. You glance at the driver. His eyes are peeled on the road, silence filling the air. You’re thankful. You’re in no mood for small talk. Your eyes travel outside the car window. Behind you, the Corso and the Snow’s apartment is getting smaller and smaller.

Still, the weight in your chest isn’t alleviated. Not one bit. Despite heading home, not an ounce of joy finds its way inside your heart.

Your mind was at war with itself at the Snows’ penthouse. You couldn’t settle on a decision. In fact, you considered going back inside the apartment. Because that at least was simple, easy…natural almost. If it weren’t for Tigris pressing you to get inside the car and physically nudging you inside it, you’re not entirely sure you’d have even made it here.

And now…guilt consumes you.

You should be back in the room, dutifully waiting for Coriolanus ‘ return as he instructed. You’re breaking the rules. His rules.

Your stomach aches. You want to puke. What have you done? You almost find yourself wishing you were still back there. 

In a twisted way, Coriolanus has become a scourge you’ve grown familiar with, a woe that blends so well with all the others. He terrifies you…but he also knows you. So well. All your fears, your hopes, your dreams, your insecurities. It’s more than you can say for anyone in your life. Even William. He thinks you’re that perfect, pure, resilient girl. You never had the heart to burst his bubble.

A deep breath makes his way inside your lungs. 

No. No.

Coriolanus is bad. Coriolanus hurt you. You keep reminding yourself of that, replaying every moment when he made you feel small, powerless.

Besides, you miss your mother. Ma’s soothing words. Her gentle voice. Her warm embrace. Ma always makes things better despite struggling to understand you sometimes. 

You need her and you bet she probably needs you to. 

You even started to long for your father’s stern brow and disapproving stares.

As for William…truth be told, you’re beginning to ponder if you ever deserved him. He was always too good for you. Too kind. Too sweet.

You girdle a fresh rush of tears.. He should find someone who won’t lie to him, hide from him, betray him. Someone better than you.

It was naive of you to even pretend you could marry a man as wonderful as him.

The car halts in front of your parents’ house. 

The driver’s cheerful voice tugs you back to reality. 

“We’re here, miss.” he says. Astonishment draws a gasp from you. The drive flew by in a quick blur. Knee deep in the sea of your somber thoughts, you failed to notice you were approaching your childhood home. You fetch a bill inside your pocket but the man waves a dismissive hand at you. “Please, Miss Snow already took care of everything.” He gives a sympathetic smile. You wonder if he’s guessed anything or if he’s just picking up on the air of gloominess hovering around you. “Just take care of yourself, darlin’.”

Nodding, you mumble a quiet ‘thank you’. You exit the car and anxiously shuffle up the porch stairs. A warm breeze flutters through your chest at the sight of the familiar building. 

You’re finally home. 

Your gaze drifts to the garden. Surprise trickles inside you as you note that your roses are still thriving despite your absence. You wonder who you’ll have to thank for that. This batch has needed meticulous care ever since you planted the flowers. Neglecting them, even for a few days, could cause them to wither and perish.

Engulfed in contemplation, you’re startled when the front door abruptly opens.

You’re faced with Demetria’s bright smile and tearful gaze.

“Oh sweetie,” your mother exclaims, wrapping her arms around you.

You blink, taken aback by your mother’s sudden embrace. For a while, you’re unmoving, afloat in sheer disbelief. 

Then quiet words fall from your tongue.

“Hey, ma.” You relax a little, your eyes closing as you hug her back. You bask in the homey scent of Ma’s perfume, worry pulsing through you when you notice how much weight she has lost since the last time you saw her. Your mother’s hardly more than bones and flesh. You shiver. Perhaps, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been gone so long. You’d have ensured Ma takes good care of herself, that she eats and doesn’t sink in a well made of her own grief.

It’s what you used to do before your world fell apart. You failed your mother. Again.

You and Ma enter the house together. You bask in your surroundings, soaking in every detail. Tears almost spill, a surge of emotion mounting inside you, but you blink them away. You’ve wept enough, been scared enough. He cannot get to you here. You wish to enjoy the fact that you’re safe and sound without turning into a puddle of tears. 

Arm threaded with yours, Ma leads you to the sunroom. Colorful strips of sunlight pour from the stained glass, dousing the room in warmth. The two of you sit and, some moments later, tea and cakes are brought to the table. Your insides clutch as your eyes land on a spot on the couch. You and Coriolanus had so many conversations here. In that very same spot, he held you in his arms and listened to you as you spilled your heart out.

Your mother starts prattling on about the house and what Strabo’s been up to while you weren’t here. You’re a bit flabbergasted that she’s not questioning where you’ve been all this time, her tone airy and casual, but you don’t have the heart to interrupt. You’re just elated that you can be with her again.

When your father enters the sunroom, you nearly drop your cup. He makes his way to you, on the cusp of tears for the first time since you’ve known him. 

You melt in his arms when he hugs you. He cradles the back of your head like when you were little. The tears you held hostage before now roam freely down your cheeks.

“Dad,” you whisper, sniffling.

He holds you in his arms a long time before his embrace slackens. He gauges you, relief dawning on his features. He smiles. Warmth rushes to your chest. You haven’t seen your dad smile in a long time. He rubs your arms and says, “Sweetheart, We weren’t expecting you so soon.” He cups your cheek. You almost flinch at the loving touch. But then you remember. This is your father. He wouldn’t hurt you. You’re safe. “But it’s a really nice surprise.”

A watery laugh spills from your lips.

“What? But…But I’ve been gone for weeks.”

Strabo’s shoulders sag, sympathy oozing from his tone.

“Yes, but we know that…it was easier for you to stay with the Snows for a while, sweetheart. We understand.” Befuddlement wells up within you. You glance between your dad and your mother. The compassion written on their faces mirror each other. Your father pats your arm, aiming to reassure you as he adds, “Coriolanus explained everything in his letters.”

A sinking feeling grows in the pit of your stomach.

Your tremulous voice swells in the room, edging on a scream.

“What do you mean by everything, dad?”

“Sweetheart, we know. And we aren’t judging you. I promise you. Your mother and I have been young too and-”

“Can I see those letters?” you snap, dread flaring along your spine.

Strabo’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Well they’re in my study, but-”

You don’t let him finish, racing through the house and making a beeline for your father’s study. Your parents trail behind you, concern etched on their faces.

“Sweetie? What’s going on?” Ma calls.

You don’t look at them, busy rummaging through your father’s desk. Your frustration grows as you open and close every drawer.

“I need to see them. Now,” you absently reply.

“I think you need to-”

“Now, dad!”

“Alright, alright. Here.” Heaving out a weary sigh, your father strolls to a cabinet on the other side of the room. The frantic uproar of your heart fills your ears. Strabo flips through several folders before retrieving a stack of letters beneath a bunch of other files. He brings them to you and you snatch them from his hands, ignoring his shocked expression. 

“Are you okay, kiddo?” he murmurs. 

Your gaze falls on Coriolanus’ neat, precise handwriting. The ink blurs in your sight as you register his words, frantically flipping through the pages. Only bits and pieces sink into your mind as your eyes hop from one sentence to another. By the second, you grow more and more horrified.

Your daughter is safe with me, you have my word. 

Our feelings have grown too strong for us to pretend.

As the preparations for our wedding have taken much of our time…

She is terrified you will disown her but I will speak to her. 

…will return when she is ready.

…for however long it takes, do not worry.

…as she is too embarrassed to announce our love to the entire capitol.

Your daughter is well and misses you dearly.

I shall do everything in my power to keep her safe and happy, now and forever.

Safe and happy. Now and…forever?

Your heart sinks to your feet.

Your mouth wobbles as your eyes rise to meet your father’s.

“No, dad. I-I don’t think I am.”

The room starts dimming around you, your knees buckling as you struggle to keep yourself upright. Your father rushes to your side. 

Then all is darkness.

When your eyes quake open, you’re greeted by the comforting sight of your bedroom. The same plushies you’ve had since you were five sit on the shelves. Pictures of your family adorn the wall beneath fairy lights. Your wardrobe is against the wall at the exact same spot and so is the antique full length mirror you received on your fourteenth birthday. 

Everything’s exactly where it should be. And it drapes a balm on your wounded spirit. 

At least nothing about your bedroom has changed.

You never should have left those familiar walls,  succumbed to boyish smiles and honeyed lies. You should have stayed right here, drowning in your own tears and choking on your pain. It beats the hell you’re experiencing now.

Your mother strokes your cheek.

“You haven’t been eating,” she says.

You sit up in your bed.

“Neither have you, Ma,” you retaliate, your brows squeezing together as you scrutinize her.

She sends you a sad smile.

“We can eat together.”

You nod. “I’d like that.”

Your gaze travels outside your window, where you get a glimpse of the rose bushes, the blushing petals brighter than ever.

“Who took care of my roses?” you mumble without thinking.

“I did.”

Your mouth falls open. “But you hate gardening.”

Ma snorts, caressing your hair. “And you’d have been sad if they’d have died while you were gone.”

Your heart swells. Your mother hasn’t stepped foot in the garden once before. She harbors a disdain for any kind of manual labor since your family left District 2. You’re in awe that she still took it upon herself to care for the flowers because she knows how much it means to you.

“I've missed you, Ma,” you say, pulling her against you for a tight hug.

“I've missed you too,” she replies, rubbing your back. “You really gave us a scare, child.”

Her long exhale flows against your shoulder. “Like I said, we understand why you had to stay away. You and Coriolanus needed time together. I just wish you felt comfortable enough to tell Dad and I the truth.”

You freeze. You’re suddenly struck with the remembrance of what occurred before you passed out and landed in your bedroom. The letters. The ghastly, dreadful letters. Or rather Coriolanus’ dizzying tower of lies. It’s no wonder your parents didn’t seek you out.

He peddled a fairytale to them. One where you’re the princess and he’s the prince coming to your rescue. Star-crossed lovers thwarted by fate. Indignation sears through you. 

Your brows knit as you lean back.

“Ma, about Coriolanus-”

Your sentence is curtailed by a bashful knock on the door. Your mother urges whoever’s on the other side to enter. A maid appears, bowing in apology.

“Mr. William is here to see you, miss,” she announces.

Your heart skips a beat.

“Oh.”

Your fingers clench, your nails digging into your palm. It was bound to happen at some point or another.

Ma seizes your shoulder, her forehead scrunched in concern.

“Do you want me to come with you, sweetie?”

You shake your head. “No. I’ve hidden enough.” You give a feeble smile. Inwards, your heart is steadily shrinking. “I’ll talk to him. Alone.”

“Are you sure? Your father and I are here if you need anything.” Her frown accentuates. “You shouldn’t let anyone get in the way of your happiness.”

You shrivel at her words. How do you even tell her and Dad? Where to even start? And most importantly, how to do it in a way that wouldn’t break their hearts?

You’re aware of the void Coriolanus has filled for them since Sejanus’ passing. While he was a brother to you, he was a son to them. 

Your father’s taken him under his wing, funding his tuition and even teaching him about his business. Your mother’s grown fond of him, regularly inviting him to lunches and even baking for him sometimes.

The Plinths and Snows have become entwined, tangled as branches growing from the same tree. And you’ve let it happen, unaware your parents were allowing a viper into their home.

You want to come clean, deliver your full truth. But the fear of causing them more hurt stitches your lips shut.

Electing to set the matter aside to focus on the one currently before you, you drag your feet downstairs. You can figure out a way to talk to your parents later. 

Right now, there is one person that demands your full attention. 

You’re stunned to see him standing in the lobby. It’s been so long. A lifetime ago it seems. He’s as boyishly handsome as you remember him, dark curls framing his face and vibrant forest orbs sparkling with longing at the sight of you. 

“William,” you greet weakly.

He wastes no time in running to you and wrapping his arms around you. 

“Baby, I’ve missed you so much.” 

Nuzzling the crook of your neck, he takes a long minute to soak in your scent. Your chest twinges.

“William…”

He steps back from you, his gaze narrowed in suspicion.

“Something’s wrong,” he finally says.

“Maybe we should sit-”

“I’m fine standing up,” he counters. He lifts your chin. “Just talk to me.” Your lips squeeze as your pulse quickens. So many words sizzle your tongue yet none will burst forth. William scoffs in frustration. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. I’ve been going crazy thinking about what possible reasons you could have to stay in Coriolanus Snow’s house of all people. You owe me that at least.”

You give a slow nod.

“You’re right.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat before meeting his gaze.

“William, the truth is…I can’t be with you anymore.”

[margeoww]

omg i loved your Left Behind ficcc😍. Could you maybe do a part two where like she confronts her brothers and maybe they say smthn mean. And she can’t believe their mom didn’t say anything either. I love the angst vibe.

🍋 anon

Left Behind 2

back to my main masterlist

part 1

pairing: carlos sainz x leclerc!reader

summary: the reader confronts Carlos, Charles, and Arthur after discovering that Carlos went to Mexico with his brothers without informing her. The confrontation leads to a painful argument, where she faces indifference from her brothers and feels deeply betrayed by Carlos.

warnings: angst, emotional neglect, family conflict.

—It’s not as easy as you think.

The tension in the dining room was thick, and every word from Arthur seemed to cut deeper than the last. You couldn’t believe you were sitting here, staring at them, the people who were supposed to care for you the most, yet all you felt was betrayal.

—Do you think I don’t understand? —Your voice trembled with raw emotion. —I’ve been nothing but supportive, Charles. But you… you went to Mexico with Arthur without even telling me! ¡And with Carlos too! —You could feel the anger rising, thick and uncontrollable.

Arthur crossed his arms, a look of irritation on his face. —You’re being dramatic. —he muttered. —It wasn’t that big of a deal.

Charles, who had been silent up until that point, finally spoke, but his words hit you like a slap. —We were busy. It wasn’t intentional.

—It wasn’t intentional?! —you echoed, incredulous. —How do you not tell your sister that you’re leaving the country? How is that not intentional?

The hurt was suffocating. You looked at them, trying to hold back tears, but they were already welling up in your eyes. Your brothers just didn’t get it. They never did.

You turned to your mother, who had been quiet the entire time, her eyes fixed on her plate, as if she were trying to avoid the storm brewing around her. —And you? You’re just going to sit there? You’re not even going to say anything? —Your voice cracked as you let out the question, your gaze pleading.

—I don’t want to get involved. —your mother replied, her tone flat, emotionless. —This is between you three.

The silence that followed felt suffocating. No one was on your side. No one even cared enough to understand.

You could feel the tears threatening to spill, but you refused to let them show. —Fine. —you said, the words dripping with a coldness you didn’t feel. —I get it. You don’t care.

You stood up, your chair scraping harshly against the floor, the sound jarring in the quiet room. You didn’t wait for anyone to speak. You couldn’t. Not when everything you’d ever wanted. Recognition, care, love. Was so effortlessly ignored.

Without another word, you walked out of the room, the cold air hitting your face as you stepped into the garden, your chest tight with emotion.

The sound of footsteps behind you broke the silence, and you didn’t need to turn around to know it was Carlos. You knew he had been watching, and you knew this moment had been coming. But you weren’t ready for what came next.

—¿Amor? —Carlos’s voice was gentle, but you could hear the concern beneath it. —I saw you leave. Are you okay?

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak, but the words bubbled out anyway. —I’m not okay, Carlos. —you whispered, your voice small, fragile. —I can’t believe you went to Mexico with them and didn’t even tell me. I thought… —The hurt in your voice made it impossible to continue.

Carlos stepped closer, his hand hesitating in the air before resting on your shoulder. —I never meant to hurt you. —he said softly, his voice low, almost apologetic. —It was just… a last-minute thing. You know how it is with Charles and Arthur.

—That’s not the point! —You pulled away from him, anger flaring again. —The point is, you left without saying anything. You chose them over me. Again.

Carlos looked at you, his expression full of guilt, but there was something else behind his eyes. Something that made you feel even more alone. —I didn’t mean to make you feel this way. You have to know that.

But you didn’t feel reassured. Not anymore. The hurt was too deep, the sense of betrayal too overwhelming. —No, Carlos. I through you cared about me. I through i mattered to you. — you swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. —But you don’t. You never did.

His face faltered at your words, and for a moment, he just stood there, as if unsure of what to do. But you didn’t give him the chance to fix things. You had already made up your mind.

—You should go. —you said, your voice distant. —I need some space.

Carlos hesitated, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. —I’m sorry. —he murmured before turning away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the night.

You stayed in the garden, the cold air numbing your skin, but it did nothing to numb the ache inside you. You had hoped, at least for a moment, that Carlos would choose you. But in the end, like everyone else, he had walked away.

[demigods-posts]

How far does the prophecy from The Lightning Thief stretch across the Percy Jackson and The Olympians series? Spoilers Ahead!

"You shall go west and face the god who has turned."

1. In The Lightning Thief, Percy, alongside his friends Annabeth and Grover, travels from New York to Los Angeles to retrieve his mother, Sally, from the underworld and confront the god who stole Zeus's lightning bolt.

2. In The Lightning Thief, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover discover Ares is in alliance with a revolt to free Kronos. Percy fights Ares and successfully secures Zeus's lightning bolt.

"You shall find what was stolen and see it safely returned."

1. In The Lightning Thief, Percy returns Zeus's lightning bolt. Conversely, Hades, who kidnapped Sally, returns her home.

2. In The Sea of Monsters, Polyphemus the Cyclops is stated to have stolen the Golden Fleece to improve the nature of his Island and lure Satyrs to their death. Conversely, Luke Castellan and his crew are stated to try and steal the Golden Fleece to quicken Kronos's resurrection.

3. In The Titan's Curse, Atlas holds Annabeth and Artemis hostage, and Percy, alongside his quest partners Grover, Thalia, Bianca, and Zoe, travels west and rescues them.

"You shall be betrayed by one who calls you friend."

1. In The Lightning Thief, Luke lures Percy into the woods, reveals he stole the lightning bolt and that he's working with Kronos to bring about the downfall of Olympus. In doing so, Luke, Percy's former friend, tries to hurt him and, inadvertently, sets Percy's story in motion.

2. In The Battle of the Labyrinth, Percy, Annabeth, Nico, and Rachel discover that Luke allows Kronos to use his body as a vessel to bring about the downfall of Olympus.

"And you shall fail to save what matters most in the end."

1. In The Lightning Thief, Percy fails to retrieve his mother from the underworld. Thus, his initial motivation for going on the quest remains unfulfilled.

2. In The Lightning Thief, Percy cannot convince Luke that bringing about the rise of Kronos is not an efficient way to dismantle a neglectful system between the Gods and demigods. This conversation is the catalyst for the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series.

3. In The Last Olympian, Percy hands Luke the knife. Luke stabs himself in his Achilles Spot, stopping Kronos from rising, and preserving Olympus. It took the death of a hero fallen from grace to dismantle a neglectful system. From the beginning, Luke was destined to be beyond saving.

[threestripeslider]

Tired: Rise!Splinter is a neglectful and awful father who doesn’t care about his kids >:(

Wired: Rise!Splinter’s negligence comes from a place of deep trauma that he’s carried with him his whole life – losing his mother, having been betrayed by the love of is life, being imprisoned and forced to fight for his life, used as an experiment and subsequently being mutated and losing his whole identity as a person – and while it certainly doesn’t excuse his behavior, there is no doubt that this man loves his sons fiercely despite his own shortcomings and perhaps it is exactly that love and care that causes him to keep his children at arms length in hopes to spare them his family’s cursed legacy that grooms them into martyrs and are thus destined to die young, a sacrifice for the greater good that Splinter is never willing to make even if it means forfeiting the world to the Shredder. Splinter’s journey of fatherhood began by being completely unprepared as a fresh young single father of four young children that depend on him to survive and there is no surprise he’s hit almost every bump there possibly is when raising a child but never in his life has Splinter ever blamed or resented his children in any way – he is not perfect and he’s aware and he tries to do better all because he loves his kids this fucking much bc despite all the shit he’s been through, those kids made him realize that he can try again. to dismiss him as an awful father is a gross mischaracterization of a deeply traumatized man of color who evidently tried his fucking hardest not to pass on the hurt onto his own children while grappling with his own demons and the crushing destiny of his family’s blood line that took away his mother.

[worldofkuro]

Carnally in need of some extra snippets of their childhood✨😔

After chapters of murders and steamy sex, going back to their younger age seems a good thing, indeed.

Painted Smile Bonus

You were laying on Alastor’s bed, pouting, since you got here, with Eamon in your arms. Your mother didn’t want you to go to Marie’s place because you would neglect your homeworks. So, you said you were going to ask Alastor for help, which he intended to do!

But when your mother told Alastor that if you hadn’t done any of your homework, you wouldn’t be able to come back, he made it his personal mission to help you. You thought it was going to be fun, that Alastor would just ignore your mother’s threats, like you were doing. 

“ Come on, it’s not that complicated.” 

But how wrong were you?

Alastor was sitting on his desk, looking at you with a straining smile. He was teaching you mathematics, which was the worst thing he could have done. Betraying you like that.

“ I don’t want to do my homeworks. I want to play, Alastor!” you whined while sitting up. You  just wanted to play, not do some boring homeworks. You heard Alastor sigh before walking toward you. 

“ Listen, if you don’t do it, we won't be able to play together anymore.”

“ My mother is always lying! She wouldn’t do that to us!” you kicked your feet in the air, pouting. Homeworks was boring, you were already bored all week, you didn’t want to waste your weekend doing boring stuff with Alastor.

“ Mhn.. Are you so stupid you can’t do basic mathematics?” 

You jerked your head toward him. You? Stupid? You stood up, frowning.

“ I’m not stupid !”

“ Then why can’t you do your homeworks?”

“ Because I don’t want to!” you crossed your arms on your chest. You weren’t stupid you were–

“ So, you are lazy.”

“No!” you blushed, ashamed.

“ Let’s play a game then, the one who finishes their homeworks first, get to make the other do whatever they like.” he taunted you. You jumped out of his bed, running toward his desk and took your school books before starting to do your homeworks. 

You were going to be the first to finish those boring homeworks.

… But why was it so complicated! Alastor was next to you, writing without stopping while you were almost tearing out your hair from anger. You felt tears in your eyes, you didn’t understand anything and you would stay here all weekend without playing with Alastor.

“ You shouldn’t do it like that.” you heard Alastor next to your ear. You turned your teary eyed toward him. He was writing down something on a piece of paper, showing what you were supposed to do. You tilted your head as he explained to you how you should resolve your problems. You didn’t know why but you understood better when Alastor was explaining than your teacher.

After one hour or so, you screamed in joy as you finished all of your homeworks. Alastor was sitting next to you with a happy smile as you bounced around his room, claiming your victory.

“ I won! I finished before you !” you beamed before turning toward Alastor. “ That means you have to do what I want!”

Alastor just nodded with his usual smile. He stood up as you tugged him outside already explaining all the games you wanted to try. You were so excited that you didn’t even see that Alastor had finished his homeworks way before you.

[daydreamgoddess14]

This one is my Ficmas gift to myself 🥰

Somewhat a continuation of Sweat

From the prompt: an unexpected meeting at a carol service.

Declan O'Hara x F!Reader - warnings inc age gap (reader is presumed over 21), semi-public oral sex... in a church. Yep. If that's likely to offend, maybe steer clear 😅

the soul felt its worth

Things had cooled off as summer had rolled into autumn. Maud had returned from London, her play had received poor reviews and she'd marched back to the Priory as if she'd never been gone.

The mood had changed for the worse. Your Venturer meetings had gone from bristling with excitement to quiet and tense.

Declan had put his efforts into salvaging their marriage and you'd had to carry on with your job as if he hadn't broken your heart.

For weeks, you'd left the room as he entered, you sat on the outskirts of meetings and didn't speak to him unless it was necessary.

You'd made sure your work hadn't suffered in the aftermath. You met every deadline, every request was catered for.

And then Maud had left again. After a blazing row, Declan had been the one to tell her to leave. Brought to the brink, his children neglected, and on the receiving end of every criticism Maud raised, he had enough.

She'd snapped at Taggie for signing a consent form for Caitlin's school - something she'd been doing in her mother's absence, something Declan had no issue with.

“You've no wish to be a mother, Maud. Or a wife. You never have. You came back out of convenience.” He'd said sadly.

She was gone before lunch.

Declan had turned to the bottle - again - drinking more than ever.

A week before Christmas, Taggie had tearfully demanded that he come back to them.

She hosted a Venturer Christmas party, proving to him how much they all loved him, how much they needed him.

Rupert had pulled out his Santa costume and literally dragged Declan onto his lap, giving him a full lecture on being a good boy.

By Christmas eve, Taggie was proudly reporting that her dad was back.

You stood alongside the rest of the Venturer team, the carol sheet gripped in your hands. You saw him sneak in late, right behind Taggie and Caitlin.

Your voice faltered briefly at the sight of him, hovering behind his children, but you quickly regained your composure and continued singing with the group. The coldness between you two was palpable, and yet, there was an undeniable tension in the air, as if the universe had conspired to bring you together once more.

He slid into the pew behind you, Taggie, ever the observant one, reached out to squeeze your elbow in greeting. You nodded back at her, unable to hide the slight shiver that ran down your spine, feeling the proximity of his presence.

The distance between you seemed both vast and dangerously close all at once.

Your body betrayed you, as a wave of desire coiled deep in your belly, despite your mind stubbornly clinging to the hurt and anger from the breakup and his behaviour afterwards. The sight of him, so close yet so far, stirred a conflicting torrent of emotions within you.

From your position halfway down the aisle, you could see Lizzie. Across the other side, Tony shot daggers at Rupert who stood alongside Bas.

Monica gave you a little wave from the front row, beckoning you forward. Your big solo. you slipped past Seb and the others, making your way to the front of the church.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have our first soloist of the evening." Fear took a cold grip of you, you could just about hear Taggie wolf whistling over the sound of your blood roaring in your ears.

As you approached the front of the church, a mix of nerves and excitement coursed through you.

The pianist turned their sheet music to the tune of "O Holy Night," and the hauntingly beautiful melody filled the church, setting the stage for your solo. Your mind raced, as the music echoed through the church.

"O holy night, the stars are brightly shining;

It is the night of the dear Savior’s birth.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining,

Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth."

Your voice wavered slightly as you sang the opening lines, finding solace in keeping your gaze steadily on Taggie's right shoulder, just a tiny shift away from gazing directly at Declan.

With a small shift, you allowed yourself a brief glance around the church. You saw Freddie beaming at you, Caitlin open mouthed in shock and nudging her brother.

You paused briefly as you reached Declan. To your surprise, you found him watching you with an expression of wonder written all over his face. His gaze was intense, almost reverential, and the sight made something flutter in your chest.

You hit the final high note with relative comfort and finish the carol. The village cheers you enthusiastically and as you return to your pew, Lizzie is there with welcoming arms. Freddie claps you on the back so heartily you almost fall forwards, his enthusiasm bubbling over. You accept their congratulations with a warm smile, but a part of you remains aware of the weight of Declan's gaze still lingering on you.

From their row behind yours, Taggie pulls you against her chest, her slim arms wrapped around your middle and her chin resting on your shoulders.

She whispers into your ear, "That was beautiful..." Her words hung in the air, sincere and heartfelt, further adding to the mixture of emotions churning within you.

Finally, unable to bear the weight of Declan's constant gaze, you make your way past Seb once more, who playfully teases, "Another solo?"

You flash a smile and murmur, "I just need some air," as you slip away from the group. You find a spot near the far wall, away from the crowded pews, seeking relief from the tension in the air.

You focus your attention on the bulletin board, reading the church announcements, hoping it will help calm the rapid drumming of your heart. The words blur together as your mind struggles to find respite from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

"I'd no idea you could sing," he murmured quietly from behind you.

His soft voice, suddenly so close, sent a jolt through your body, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

Turning to face him, you reply, "And I had no idea you were such a sneak.”

Catching a glimpse of the unsuspecting guests engrossed in their own conversations, you can't help but notice how natural it looks for the two of you to be engaged in a conversation.

No one seems to be paying attention, allowing a moment of relative privacy in the midst of the festivities.

Declan's intense gaze pierces through you as he utters, "Can I talk to you?"

Your initial response is laced with uncertainty as you ask, "here?"

Your surroundings, still filled with the hum of the carolling and the chatter of the guests, seem both intimate and risky at the same time.

Understanding your hesitation, Declan gestures towards the two narrow confessional booth doors behind you.

His gaze remains fixed on your face, silently pleading for you to follow him inside.

The weight of his request hangs in the air, and the idea of sequestering yourselves together in such a confined space sends a shiver down your spine.

With a bit of maneuvering, you both manage to squeeze yourselves into the tight booth. The space is so narrow that you're barely separated by the width of a hymn book.

The proximity is overwhelming, and your every breath is a reminder of how close you are to one another, your bodies gently brushing against one another with each inhale and exhale.

You're close enough to him to pick up the scent of menthol cigarettes and whiskey mixed with the warmth of his breath as it gently drifts over your face. It's an intoxicating mixture that makes your senses spin and your pulse quicken even further. Being this close to him, breathing in his scent, you find yourself torn between wanting to pull away and lean in closer.

Caught in the moment, you notice Declan’s gaze dropping to the deep V-neckline of your dress, as if drawn to the exposed skin. The look in his eyes holds a mixture of desire and uncertainty, mirroring the maelstrom of emotions you're feeling yourself. The tension in the confessional booth is palpable, and you can practically feel the electric energy flowing between you two.

In the hushed atmosphere of the confessional booth, you find the courage to speak up, your voice breaking the silence.

"What do you want, Declan?" Your words hang in the air, and you wonder if he can see the frantic beat of your heart or the quickening rhythm of your breath. The intensity of the moment seems to stretch time itself.

He doesn't say anything in response, but he leans down, cupping your cheek in his large hand.

Caught off guard by his sudden movement, the gesture is both tender and possessive, sending a shiver down your spine at the feel of his palm against your skin.

The silence that follows is deafening, and you can just about hear your own heart stuttering in anticipation.

Your traitorous body arches up towards him, your breathing ragged and needy.

The heat between you two is almost unbearable, and you find yourself struggling to keep control of your rising emotions.

His gaze flicks down to your lips and then back up to lock with your eyes, the intensity in his stare making your breath hitch in your throat. Every nerve ending in your body seems to tingle, as if electricity is crackling through your veins, and all you can do is stand there, frozen, watching him.

In the heat of the moment, it's hard to tell who gives in first. Your arms snake around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer as his lips crash down onto yours. The taste of him is a heady, intoxicating mix of mint and alcohol that sends your senses spiralling. His mouth claims yours with a desperate hunger, as if he's been starving for the taste of you.

His arms tighten around you in a possessive grip, his large hands bunching the material of your dress against your thighs as you instinctively angle your hips towards him.

The thin fabric feels almost non-existent under his touch, and the heat radiating from him is overwhelming.

You can feel the hardness of his body against yours, and it sets every nerve ending in your body ablaze.

His tongue teases the seam of your lips, seeking entry to your mouth, as his hands drift lower, discovering the split in your dress and tracing the edge of your lacy underwear. The touch of his calloused fingers against your skin leaves a trail of fire in their path, sending a shiver of desire through you.

Amidst the heat of the moment, he murmurs with a chuckle, "God forgive me. My mother would turn in her grave," as his hand cups your breast over the fabric of your dress.

The combination of his words and the touch of his hand adds a layer of forbidden pleasure to the already intense situation, making your head spin and your body ache for more.

With a decisive turn, he guides you to sit on the rickety wooden chair, the hardness of the wood digging into your thighs.

He kneels before you, his gaze fixed on your face as he asks with a hint of boldness, "Any sins to confess, love?"

The sudden change in position leaves you feeling exposed, vulnerable, yet at the same time, unbelievably excited.

The feel of his hand slowly trailing up your leg and through the split in your dress is nearly enough to make you gasp aloud. "Any impure thoughts?" he asks, his fingers gently grazing the damp lace between your legs, causing a shudder to run through your body.

The sensations coursing through you are almost too much to bear, and the room seems to be getting hotter by the second.

Despite the fact that your ears can hear the faint singing of the village, your body betrays you, your hips involuntarily bucking towards his hand, seeking more of his touch.

The conflicting sounds create a strange dichotomy; the purity of the church hymn outside compared to the sin of this intimate exchange within the booth.

Under your dress, he hooks his fingers into your underwear and slides them down your legs.

With dexterous ease, he gathers them up and pockets them, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

He then spreads your knees apart, the gesture exposing you to him, vulnerable and ready.

He guides your leg over his shoulder, opening you up widely to him while you position your other for

foot against the woven window of the confessional. The change in angle provides him with a better view and access to you, making your breath catch in your throat.

"I've missed this view," he mutters in a low, almost guttural tone, his eyes locked on your exposed body.

He licks his lips, relishing the sight before him, and there's an undertone of dark need in his voice that makes your skin prickle with heat.

Your words come out as a strained whisper, "Declan… we don't have time for this -" Your mind is reeling, your body aching with need, but the harsh reality of the situation sinks in.

There's no time, no place, for this kind of reckless abandon, and yet the primal lust between the two of you seems almost impossible to resist.

His response is barely above a growl, "I'm gonna make time, love. They'll be singing and chatting for a while yet, plenty of time for me to taste your sweet cunt."

His words send a thrill of anticipation through you, as if the very air between you is crackling with electricity.

With a sense of purpose, he gets to work, his mind set on making the most of the limited time you have together.

Your fingers twist into the thick curls of his hair, instinctively pulling him closer, as your other hand blindly searches for purchase on the smooth wooden wall next to you.

You're practically shaking with anticipation, every muscle in your body taut and on edge, waiting for the feel of his mouth on you.

The moment his tongue makes contact with your sensitive skin, a gasp escapes your lips, your body instantly responding to the gentle touch.

The sensations flood through you like a wave, and your fingers instinctively tighten in his hair as if pleading for more.

He groans into the wet heat of your cunt, the sound of his moan against your sensitive flesh sends ripples of pleasure coursing through your body, the vibration of his voice creating a new kind of sensation that sets your nerves on fire.

Your hand involuntarily tightens in his hair, fingers digging into his scalp in an attempt to anchor yourself to reality.

He works the point of his tongue around your clit, teasing the swollen bundle of nerves.

With his head buried between your thighs, the sound of his breathing is almost as intoxicating as the feel of his tongue against your sensitive core. Your thighs clench involuntarily around his ears, not with the intent to pull him away, but rather to hold him closer, to feel every tiny movement, every breathless gasp.

He uses the flat of his tongue to spread your pussy open, delving it as deeply into you as he can.

The whispered words escape your lips, "God, Declan," as you struggle to hold back the moans threatening to spill from your mouth.

His touch is everywhere, his fingertips holding you against him with an almost possessive grip, grazing across your thighs, your ass, adding to the overwhelming barrage of sensations coursing through your body.

With a trembling hand, you press your fist to your mouth, desperate to stifle the moans that escape you as he continues to drive you out of your mind. The sound of the hymns being sung outside is like a distant, mocking reminder of where you are, adding an element of sin and guilt to the pleasure he's bringing you.

The feel of his long fingers joining the assault on your cunt is almost too much to bear, the dual attack sending you spiralling out of control. You're trembling, on the edge of something monumental, your voice strangled as you try to keep quiet, to not let your gasps spill out into the open church.

His fingers fill you to his knuckles, stretching you, making you desperate to be filled by his cock. He curls them inside you, pumping them in and out while his tongue flicks over your clit.

It's dark in the confessional, the only light filtering through the cutouts in the wood.

You look down to see him gazing up at you, his eyes almost black in the darkness.

It feels like a confession of sorts. A confession that your love for Declan never went away even when he left you to go back to Maud. A confession that you'd been on his mind throughout their torrid reconciliation.

With every breath, every gasp, his name leaves your lips like a prayer, a desperate plea. There's no denying your devotion to him, the way your body responds to his touch, the way your heart beats for him. You're his completely and utterly.

Despite the obstacles that lie ahead - his children, the differences in age - you find yourself caring less and less.

When you're tangled up in his embrace like this, the world outside doesn't matter. All that matters is the overwhelming love you feel for him and the realization that you'd do anything for him.

His tongue delves deep, coaxing more sounds from you, his fingers working in tandem to drive you to the brink.

The intensity of it all is almost unbearable, the pleasure so overwhelming that your legs tremble under him, a visible sign of how he's affecting you. Even through the haze of sensation, you realize that this moment is just the beginning of something much bigger than either of you.

The faint mutterings of the entire village outside the confessional reach your ears, the music beginning to fade, and the sound of talking becoming more prominent.

It's a stark reminder that this stolen moment of bliss has to come to an end. The service is over, and it's only a matter of time before you're discovered.

The danger of being caught somehow makes your approaching orgasm even more intense.

Declan refuses to give up until he's brought you to release. He works your body with his tongue, circling your bundle of nerves until you feel your gut tighten and the walls of your cunt contract around his fingers. You disguise the wail of his name by clamping your hand over your mouth as you climax under his touch.

You try to steady yourself by gently stroking his hair. Your breaths come in deep and shuddering gasps, trying to calm your racing heart. You know that you need to collect yourself quickly before someone discovers you.

With a cheeky smile, he wipes his mouth on your thigh, his moustache scraping against your sensitive skin and leaving a trail of your cum.

With trembling legs and a racing heart, you mutter, "It's finished, we need to move." You breathe, referring to the service. Yet, despite the situation, he responds with a sincere smile, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

He gets to his feet and offers you a hand, his eyes locked on yours. "We're far from finished, love." The determination in his voice is undeniable, the heat in his eyes telling you that he's not done with you yet.

You hold out your palm, a silent demand for your stolen underwear. With a mischievous grin, he innocently shrugs, pretending ignorance. "I don't know what you mean." His eyes are full of playful twinkle, clearly amused by his own little prank.

You adjust your dress, trying to regain some semblance of decency, and roll your eyes at his antics.

You peer through the narrow gap in the door, observing the village filtering out through the main doors.

Your mind racing, you turn to him and give a firm instruction, "Wait for a second before you leave. I'm going to join the crowd."

He nods in agreement, silently acknowledging the plan and waiting patiently for you to make your move.

As you move to open the door, his hand on your hip pulls you back and he dips his head to kiss you.

The taste of your cunt lingers on his tongue, marking your territory.

You lean into him just slightly, your palm covering his racing heart, then you step out into the open and join your friends.

After a few seconds,his presence behind you becomes a steadying force, as he engages jovially in conversation with the unsuspecting vicar.

Lizzie sweeps you into her ongoing conversation with Rupert, who gives you a subtle, knowing look, as if he's aware of what had just transpired in the confessional booth.

"Darling, your hair!" Lizzie chuckles, her observation drawing your attention to your disheveled appearance. "You must have been yanking at it with nerves for your solo. It's all come loose.”

You remove the simple hair clip that barely held your locks in place and set them free, shaking your hair out.

"I was very nervous,” you admit.

Rupert's lascivious grin widens.

"However did you calm down afterwards?" His implication is clear.

"I just stepped away for some air," you tell him firmly, maintaining a neutral expression.

Rupert's grin remains in place as he muses, "I'm sure it was nice to find a... release."

As Declan steps forward, Rupert offers a warm greeting, "Ahh, Mr. O'Hara. Late arrival?" The way he says it seems almost challenging, as if testing Declan's response.

"A little late. Then I helped our soloist here settle her nerves afterwards, we just had a little catch up on work. Back to the Priory for a nightcap?"

He looks around the group, casually inviting you under the pretense of inviting everyone.

Rupert turns to Taggie, his own intentions clear. "Yes, sounds good to me. Tag, angel, do you have any leftovers for us to tuck into?"

Taggie blushes under his gaze.

"I have," she assures him. "Got a bottle of champagne as well?" She turns to you with a grin.

“Well, I'd better come with you, then." You beam at her, appreciative of her invitation.

Walking towards the Priory with the group, Declan falls into step alongside you, his little finger gently brushing against yours. It's a subtle touch, meant to be unnoticed, but sending a thrill through your body nonetheless.

The anticipation builds, the thought of having Declan back in your life, and your bed, exciting you beyond belief. You find yourself unable to keep the grin off your face, your mind filled with thoughts of all the things you want to do with him once you're alone.

“Come on, you,” Lizzie coos, “gosh, you look done in! No more solos for you!”

Behind her, Declan's smirk is unmissable.

[webcamnibal]

My Sweet Saintess | Hannibal Lecter

sincerely yours, @webcamnibal

Summary: Hannibal Lecter and his pretend daughter. Saintess "Mischa" Ivanova.

Warnings: Sensitive Topics, Obsession, Infatuation, Child Neglection. Not proofread.

Hannah Dodd | Partially inspired by Flowers in the Attic: The Origin.

────────────

"Oh Sweet Saintess, my sweet little angel. You were my salvation from all of this darkness."

Saintess Ivanova was left abandoned by her parents. At least that was said to her. He seemed to know everything about her. In fact she trusted him with her life. But then again, the truth is very different from what she was told.

She only knew he cared for her and wanted her happiness. That much she understood. After all, how could such a man who looked like a Greek statue do any kind of harm to her?

Saintess' parents were former aquaintance with the Hannibal Lecter. Hannibal grew infatuation with Honesty Hawthorne, Saintess' mother. It was the first time Hannibal felt something for someone and it made him feel alive.

Hannibal and Honesty were inseparable since childhood. They knew everything about eachothers darkest and deepest secret. Even though neither one really liked eachother in the beginning. It was a friendship forged through hardship, pain, and suffering.

Honesty knew about Mischa and after learning how they treated the two of them, Hannibal vowed to protect Honesty after what happened to her sister.

Honesty will never leave Hannibal, no matter how hard it may be for her to endure. Because she knows Hannibal is her saving grace.

She would rather die than betray his trust. Hannibal saved her from those evil men, preventing what happened to Mischa from happen to her.

Honesty simply owes Hannibal her life. "Why did you save me?" She asked while looking at him with hopeful eyes.

Young Hannibal looked at her and smiled softly, "Because... I care about you."

Then Malcolm Ivanova, a Handsome Russian man met Honesty Hawthorne.

They have been together ever since. Hannibal on the other hand kept his promise and took good care of Honesty. He also helped her find herself and helped her build her self up. Honesty loved Malcolm, which Hannibal couldn't care less.

Two years has passed, Malcolm proposed to Honesty and she accepted him gladly. The newlyweds then moved to Moscow, Russia while Honesty is expecting a child of their own. A beautiful baby girl.

The little girl has beautiful long blonde hair. She looked just like Honesty, Hannibal thought. Honesty Ivanova named her Saintess as she looks like a saint, an angel dropped from heaven.

When Saintess was a year old, Hannibal started taking care of her. He wanted her to be spoiled and loveable like she is his own daughter. And so he became an angel himself by spoiling her rotten. He loved it. The way she smiles and laugh. The way her eyes sparkle when she sees Hannibal, like she can see straight through to the soul of him. It made him feel whole inside.

She looks so much more like Honesty as she reached 2 years old. He had to remind himself that everytime he sees her. He couldn't let himself get too attached.

Of course, Hannibal's hidden dirty tactics didn't stop. He killed and consumed people. Sometimes innocently and sometimes intentionally.

The Man-eater is what he was known throughout Russia. Occasionally, as the Deathstroke and the Walking Death Plague.

It amuses Hannibal how some people called him names such as Deathbringer and Vile Ghost. He doesn't care. He want those words to come out of their mouths anyway. It only made him feel better.

People are only scared of things they cannot control. Like death.

───────────────────

It was December 25th, the snow was piling up outside. While Hannibal just came back from a killing spree. Some stupid woman tried to cross his path. Of course, he didn't waste any effort to kill. Her throat opened up like a gaping black hole and died screaming without a voice box.

Hannibal prepared dinner consisting of his recent kill and planned to give Honesty's family. When he saw a familiar figure standing in front of the door of the dining hall. His little angel princess.

Little Sweet Saintess stood there looking around and admiring the place before she spotted him. With a big smile, Saintess waved happily at him. Hannibal waved back as he walked over to her. He kneeled down in front of her. She still wore her red hat, scarf, and jacket as the temperature outside was below zero.

Hannibal caressed her cheek as he dusted snow off her clothes, "What brings you here my Sweet Saintess?"

"My papa dropped me off here, silly papa," she giggled cutely, causing Hannibal to grin. Hannibal knew Honesty and Malcolm are arguing right now, but he couldn't care less once again.

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "How can your papa leave you here, hm? Did the maidservant somewhat assist you?" Hannibal asked concerned.

"Yep! Dear papa said I'm going to sleep here for the entire night, with you! " She pouted cutely.

"In any chance did you forget that It's your birthday today?" Hannibal asked. "I did!" She exclaimed loudly. "I forgot!"

"Don't worry sweetheart. We'll make sure to celebrate with your favorite, chocolate cake," Hannibal reassured.

"Really?" Saintess asked hopefully. Hannib knew how much she loves sweets. Especially chocolate cake.

Hannibal nodded, "Of course we will. Let us go eat dinner, I have made your favorite."

Hannibal stood up and grabbed Saintess' hand. He led her into the dining hall and sat her on her chair. "You wait here my Little Saintess." Hannibal said before leaving.

The young girl nodded and smiled brightly at him. She loves him so much and he loves her too.

"С Днем рожденья тебя! с днём рождения, с днём рождения, с днём рождения тебя!" Hannibal sang as he placed four candles into the cake.

"You're old man," Saintess muttered randomly. Hannibal chuckled and ignored her, "I'm only two years older than your mother, Saintess."

"Mhm," she said, not believing it. "Mama said she is this number..." She trailed off. Saintess raised her hands into the numbers two. "And you think she's old?" Hannibal asked mockingly, amused of their conversation.

"Well yes! She's pretty old!" Saintess replied. Hannibal chuckled, "She certainly is, darling."

──────────── 3 weeks later

Honesty decided to visit Hannibal without him knowing. The castle was deserted and dark. "Hello?" she called out in a quiet voice. No answer. She sighed and began walking towards the stairs, which led directly to the second floor where it felt more like home.

That is until Honesty began to smell a faint smell of rotting flesh coming from the basement.

"You could have turned a blind eye, Honesty." Hannibal said. "After what you've done to my husband?! It was you!!" Honesty shouted angrily.

Hannibal laughed maniacally. "With what he has done with Saintess? Your little angel? He abused and neglected her. I did what must be done."

"What must be done? Killing him? Feeding his remains to my daughter and I? Is that what you mean?" She shouted back.

The look in Hannibal's face showed that he was enjoying Honesty's reaction. Hannibal didn't speak. Instead, he slowly raised his left arm to reveal a knife in his palm.

"That's enough of your nonsense. You don't need to continue talking." He said coldly. Hannibal approached Honesty slowly as he plunged the knife into her heart and stomach as much as she tried to get away.

Honesty cried out as blood gushed out of the wound.

"Do you know why I saved you? Why I protected you from those men who tried to hurt you alongside my sister? Because you remind me of her..." Hannibal whispered gently as he placed his finger underneath her chin and tilt her head up to face him.

"You remind me of my sweet sister Mischa and now my sweet Saintess reminds me of her. Now, rest."

Part 2?

[scoupsahoy]

i know people love a villain (especially an evil or emotionally abusive parent) in a network procedural but the helena diaz hate train is a little unfounded if not misogynistic

i am on eddie's side and i love him and im so excited for him to confront his trauma and his mistakes and for the characters on the show to show up for him. he's had a genuinely concerning mental health crisis basically once every other season since we met him and i want him to focus on himself instead of worrying about being a perfect father all the time and hindering his own healing in effort to put chris first

that being said sometimes children are betrayed by their parents and go to live with their grandparents for a while. chris has been whisked away and abandoned several times growing up by both of his parents including the time his mother died. eddie is basically put on suicide watch in season 5 due to an EXTREMELY TRAUMATIZING MOMENT FOR CHRIS. the thing with kim as a whole is a result of his inability to process his own trauma and pain and it keeps happening. at the end of season 7 CHRIS calls his grandparents because he cannot trust his father and it is not uncommon or unreasonable for a kid his age who has gone through what he's gone through to live with his grandparents

like this isn't "i'm mad at my dad for cheating on his girlfriend" it's "a woman who looked identical to my mother who died suddenly and tragically when i was like seven years old was in my living room embracing my father while i was hanging out with his girlfriend who babysits me regularly due to the fact that my father is a firefighter and i am a disabled teenager"

helena and ramon are presumably wealthy, presumably retired, presumably have a stable marriage, and chris trusts them. and im not saying that that's a requirement to take care of a child but that's clearly what chris wants and needs right now

being like "helena is taking advantage of the situation because she was never a good parent to eddie and should in fact be pushing chris back to him" is

1. ignoring chris' agency and the legitimate reasons he had for calling his grandparents in texas vs like buck or someone

2. USUALLY ignoring ramon's hand in it even though ramon was the parent to eddie that was neglectful and arguably emotionally abusive on some level

3. a bad faith reading of a nuanced situation where helena and ramon ON SCREEN IN TEXT believed, supported, and empathized with eddie when they were picking up chris

i understand the desire to have a bad guy in whatever situation but also like. a genuinely really lazy boring reading to me to be like "and no one has done anything wrong except for this horrid woman who has bad intentions and probably never loved her son"

PS i know no one is going to read this let alone agree with me but if anyone uses this as an excuse to say anything bad about eddie diaz. don't

[deliciousbasementtrash]

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

From Injustice Gods Among Us Year 5 #15

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. Will you take it?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x reader, (maybe a why choose with Dick Grayson as well?? Idk tell me what you guys want)

Warning: Adult language, parental abuse, parental neglect

Word Count: 1.6k

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it 

Part One, Part Two

Part Three: Skip-Bo and Chess

My mind raced as I went over the contract. Everything seemed too simple, too easy. The only terms and conditions I had to abide by were that I wouldn’t reveal his identity and that I would need to essentially be on call from the hours of 21:00 to 7:00, but roughly 24/7. The pay was a ridiculous amount. The insurance was crazy good. I didn’t realize it was possible to get that much coverage. But this went against everything I have represented in my life. Would I be betraying the people of Gotham, my patients, and my fellow coworkers, by taking this job? Would I be betraying myself and my past history? 

Gotham City: 16 Years Ago 

My father and I stood over my mother’s grave. It was strange. My mom was a woman who breathed life into everything. She never wore a dull color, she danced whenever she could, and she sang horribly and off tune. She wore her hair in two long braids with colorful ribbons. She wore sweet perfume. She wore red lipstick. She wore so many necklaces and bracelets she jingled when she walked. She snorted when she laughed. And now when I looked at her all I saw was dirt and a gravestone. Her colorfulness, her loudness, her laughter, her joy, all of it was gone. I knew I couldn’t cry though. Not in front of Dad. He got so much meaner when I did. Sometimes I wonder what my beautiful, colorful, caring mother saw in this cruel bleak man. But I guess his bitterness was supposed to balance out her sweetness. 

But without her, it felt like I was choking on the disgusting taste of my reality. We were grieving. We had no money. And the debt just seemed to be getting deeper and deeper. I tried selling homemade cookies at school to help out. I raised about 22 dollars. I came home with a smile on my face and handed my father the money. He pocketed it without another word. It was almost worse when he was like this.

It felt like he was a teapot that was brewing and I was just waiting for the wrong thing to set him off. 

Some days when I came home from school he was home. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t look at me. Other days he wasn’t there. I had to scavenge the house for food or walk to the convenience store with what little money I had scurried away. 

It felt like my life had become black and white without my mom. Everything seemed so hopelessly bad. Then one day my dad came home with a smile on his face. My first instinct was to tense my body and avert my gaze. I didn’t know what he was going to do. 

“Sweetie, come with me. I have an idea,” my father said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me out the door with him. 

He drove like a maniac and pulled up towards a seemingly abandoned building. My blood ran cold with anticipation. 

My father practically ripped me out of the car and dragged me inside. Inside there were about twenty men all pretty beat up. All of them looked at me. I picked at my hangnails and looked at my father. 

“Y/n, these gentlemen need to be healed. Be a doll and heal them.” My father’s words were clipped, and my pulse raced. I merely nodded and healed man after man. It became clear to me, even at my young age, that these men were a part of a gang. Who’s? I had no idea. 

That was until a fat man in a tuxedo and a cane walked up to my father. He handed him a bundle of cash, they whispered some hurried words and the grotesque man leaned down towards me.

His short fat finger booped my nose, and the man tilted his head back and laughed at my reaction. I wanted to bite his finger off. I wanted to go home. I wanted my mom. 

For the next two years, my father did business with anyone that could pay him. Our life went from living by the penny to living in luxury. All due to my power. The richest of the rich, politicians, businessmen, criminals, and villains, all used my services. And eventually, they tried to buy me. 

That’s when I decided to run away. Or die trying.

Gotham City: Present Day 

I sat across from Sam, my best friend, and nurse colleague. “What do you think I should do?” She was the only one that I trusted enough to tell everything to. Of course, I left out the whole, ‘My boss would be Batman thing.’ 

“Girl, if you don’t take this job I will kill you,” Sam said, taking a large bite of her pasta. 

“Do you think I’m betraying my younger self? I promised I would never be bought. I would never work for a corrupt man.” 

“Maybe you should discuss with Mr. Wayne, that you would like to remain a nurse part-time. That way you ease your conscious about everything but still live in a fucking MANSION and make BANK, you dummy head. And this way you’re reclaiming your past. You get to choose. You’re not trapped.” 

I mindlessly pushed my food around my plate, lost in thought. “That’s not a terrible idea.” 

“Of course not, I never have bad ideas. Take one more night to think about it. But I think you have your answer.” 

That night I tossed and turned in my bed. I grabbed my phone, the bright screen making me blink. 

[I accept your terms, but I do have a few remediations to the contract. Signed, y/f/n y/l/n.] 

One week later. 

 “How are you taking to your new living situation, Miss y/l/n?” Alfred asked as he expertly julienned an onion. I not as gracefully diced several cloves of garlic across from him. 

I looked up at him, smiling, “I’m still getting used to it, to be honest.” It had become a silent routine over the past week. When I wasn’t working at the hospital, or patching up Batman, I got bored. So, I started helping Alfred with cooking. 

He taught me how to play chess. I taught him how to play Skip-Bo and dominos. I had grown quite fond of the man over the short period. It most definitely was my daddy issues clinging to the first nice man I saw. But Alfred Pennyworth seemed truly kind to me. 

I hadn’t met any other members of Bruce’s family, but supposedly they were all meeting for dinner tonight. For some reason, my pulse spiked at the thought of meeting them. My past gave me anxiety when meeting new people I didn’t know. 

As if reading my thoughts Alfred asked, “How are you feeling about meeting everyone tonight?”

I cut a piece of garlic a bit harshly, “I’m– I’m fine. Do you know if I am to meet them after the dinner or before?”

Alfred’s eyebrows quirked, “What do you mean? You most probably will meet them at dinner. You are attending are you not?”

“I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to eat with the family or not,” I stated, hesitantly. 

I heard a twang of metal as Alfred set down his knife. He gave me his full attention as he said, “Master Wayne may seem abrasive, Miss. But I assure you, he would never have to eat separately unless that is what you wished.” 

Abrasive was one way to put it. He often reminded me of a feral cat when I tried to heal him. He would practically hiss that he was fine. I had to politely remind my employer a few times that this was what I was here for and to let me heal him. 

We cooked in silence for a while, when out of the blue I asked Alfred, “Alfred, are you happy?”

Alfred always holding his poise answered calmly, “Happiness is something that fluctuates in my life, Miss. I will say that knowing that Master Wayne and the rest of the family are in your capable hands is reassuring me as of late. I also have been enjoying your company, no matter how many times you beat me in Skip-Bo.”

I laughed, a true genuine laugh. “Hey, you win every time we play chess!”

Alfred smiled softly, “Miss I have been playing chess since I was five years old. If I lost I think I would have to revoke my Englishmanship.” 

After my laughter died down, another question popped in my head, “What are they like? Mr. Wayne’s family?”

Alfred smiled, “Those children are loud, argumentative, loyal, funny, stubborn, etc. I love those children with everything I am. You will too, Miss y/l/n.”

An unfamiliar sense of warmth bloomed in my chest, “Thank you, Alfred.”

“Thank you, Miss y/l/n.”

As I was getting dressed. I could not pick out what I wanted to wear. Did I want to go casual with a tee shirt and jeans? A bit more formal with a dress? Semi-casual with a skirt and sweater? I decided on the last one, with some tights on underneath. I wanted to make a good impression. It felt like the first day of school. I made my way down the stairs. No one had arrived yet. I took a seat next to Alfred, my leg bouncing. 

Alfred patted my shoulder when we heard the door open, “It will be just fine.” 

The loud oncoming footsteps mimicked my thundering pulse.